


Men of No Consequence

by MissAdventurous



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ableist Language, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bargaining, Bittersweet Ending, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Episode Ignis Spoilers, Episode Prompto Spoilers, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Oral Sex, Post-Altissia, Pre-Altissia, Public Sex, Rimming, Secret Relationship, Threesome - M/M/M, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-06 03:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15877203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAdventurous/pseuds/MissAdventurous
Summary: Never one to say no to an indulgence, Ardyn fully intended to enjoy Ignis and Prompto before and after he escorted the world into ruin.





	1. Before everything changed

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was born because there are Ardyn/Ignis and Ardyn/Prompto fics, but there were no fics for Ignis/Ardyn/Prompto... So, I set out to fix that :)  
> Specific warnings will be in the end notes; however, the relationships with Ardyn are dubious. If dub-con bugs you, then this is not the fic for you.  
> I'll also be adding some more tags as I add chapters. This fic has been completed, it just all needs to be uploaded; there are three full-length chapters, one interlude scene, and then a final epilogue.
> 
> I'm new to AO3 and haven't written a fic in years (yikes), so I hope I'm not too terribly rusty! Also, if I missed any important tags, let me know.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbeknownst to the other, Ignis and Prompto both make the same mistake.

It started at the Vesperpool. it was just Ignis and Prompto at the time, they were down a man and Noctis had left to go fishing. He was trying to catch a Vesper Gar—or some fish like that, maybe a Vesper Dace. Prompto was going to go with him, until he realized that Ignis had every intention of staying behind to keep an eye on the Chancellor. And, honestly, missing out on one of Noctis’ fishing trips wasn’t a huge loss.

So, it was just the two of them in an enemy camp, Prompto having plopped down in a cheap plastic fold-out chair, Ignis perched against the side of the old, crumbling building. Ignis was studying the enemy soldiers, trying to gauge their intentions. Prompto on the other hand had been looking at his camera, scrolling through his photos from the past few days.

Prompto’s only warning that anything was amiss was when Ignis jolted away from the wall. “Iggy?” The name barely leaving his mouth before a hand closed over his shoulder. Prompto nearly leapt out of the chair, the only thing stopping him were the fingers digging into his shoulder. Prompto, still awkwardly cradling the camera in his lap, snuck a glance upward: up a long arm, broad chest, and surely Ardyn hadn’t seemed quite so large before.

“Is there something you require, Chancellor?” Ignis asked, taking a step forward—politeness doing little to mask the bite of his words.

Ardyn let out a hum, “You poor things, it seems the two of you have been abandoned.”

A scoff escaped Ignis’ mouth as he retorted: “We have hardly been abandoned.”

Prompto straightened up in the chair, beginning to nod in agreement, “Noct’s just taking a quick break to go fishing.” Prompto’s words began to drawl at the end when he realized how defensive he was sounding. Not the best way to prove a point, so he snapped his mouth shut and settled for continuing to dumbly nod.

“Oh, but it’s not just Noct that I’m speaking of,” Ardyn’s words so matter-of-fact that it set Ignis on edge: his teeth gritted, unable to hide how his hands clenched in his lap—twisting into the fabric of his slacks.

But then both of Ardyn’s hands were placed on Prompto’s shoulders, bracketing him in. When Ardyn leaned down—only just enough to see the picture on the camera—Prompto for a hysterical moment felt like he was being engulfed by a mindflayer. “Oh, to return to happier times,” Ardyn mused with a faux-wistfulness. Prompto snuck a glance at the picture in his lap: and, of course, it was a shot of him smiling with Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis.

Prompto shuddered, trying to crane his head back to get a good look at Ardyn, but then thought better of it when he realized he probably looked like an idiot, so he settled for just staring straight ahead at Ignis—and Ignis, thank the Six, said: “I don’t believe you’d have us return to those happier times at all.”

A slow smile stretched out across Ardyn’s face, “Come now, certainly I’ve done nothing to warrant such an icy reception. After all, I’ve done nothing but aid you and your prince.”

“What is it that you want, Chancellor?” Ignis finally said, exasperation coloring his tone, glancing at where Ardyn’s hands were still on Prompto.

“Oh, many things,” Ardyn drawled, giving one of Prompto’s shoulders a condescending pat before he drew back.

Prompto couldn’t help but lurch up out of the chair, up and away from Ardyn. Ignis stepped in front of Prompto, “Allow me to clarify, what is it you want from us?” Ignis leveled a glare at Ardyn.

Ardyn sauntered forward, as though completely unaware—or uncaring—of the palpable tension, he was close enough now that Ignis had to tip his head back to maintain eye contact. “Many things, dear boy,” Ardyn remarked. He held his hands up, pointer fingers and thumbs held up in a parody of a frame. Ardyn looked them over, doing little to hide his blatant interest. “But, I would settle for only two.”

Prompto’s eyebrows furrowed, he nervously scratched at his wrist— suddenly the wristbands there felt an awful lot like they were chafing, too constricting. Prompto settled on letting out a nervous laugh, his eyes darting side-to-side as he said: “Dude, what’re you getting at...?”

“We are done playing yours games, Chancellor,” Ignis cut in before Ardyn had any opportunity to respond to Prompto’s question. Ignis’ tone left little room for argument, wholly secure and confident: “If you do not wish to discuss anything pertinent, refrain from speaking with us.” Ignis would have seemed completely unbothered if not for the slight flush starting on the tips of his ears; a sign that he was more embarrassed or frustrated by the situation than his tone implied.

Ardyn spread his arms out, palms up in the parody of surrender. His face, however, had a self-satisfied smile twitching on the corners of his lips. “Ah, then I shall take my leave,” He spun on his heels, arms swinging as he left them. A certain saunter to his steps, purposefully not glancing back although Prompto was sure he wanted to

Once Ardyn was gone, Prompto and Ignis exchanged a momentary look before Prompto was tearing his gaze away; turning so his back faced Ignis, toe of his boot scuffing against the marshy earth. Ignis cleared his throat before he announced, “I am going to check on our supply of curatives.” It was probably for the best, both of them loathe to discuss the Chancellor’s attentions.

* * *

That didn’t mean that Prompto could exactly forget about them. Even weeks later. The seaside property of Cape Caem was dreamy and all, but trying to get to sleep was turning out to be a real bitch. Tomorrow they were going to leave for Altissia, and for the life of him Prompto couldn’t fall asleep because he was thinking about Ardyn. Ardyn of all people. It didn’t help that Gladio was asleep next to him, breathing deeply, Ignis and Noct in the other double bed. Prompto groaned softly, shoving his head into his pillow. 

Prompto was completely terrified that they would run into Ardyn again (not to mention the potential of a whole army of Nifs waiting for them)— And not for the reasons he should be, like that Ardyn was a weird, old man. But, because the whole weird, old man thing was kinda arousing now that Prompto had enough time to come to grips with it.

Now, normally, Prompto would deal with the tension like any healthy young person: masturbation. But that option was completely off the table because the big guy was literally right there. Asleep. Right next to him. Prompto twisted onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling.

Do not think about Ardyn, do NOT think about Ardyn, became Prompto’s mental mantra as he tried to imagine spiracorns jumping over a fence. Instead, not even ten spiracorns in, his brain decided to imagine Ardyn riding a spiracorn— which was unbearably ridiculous, but it was so weird, and so stupid that even that was kinda working for Prompto’s twisted mind. Prompto yanked his pillow out from underneath him, smothering it over his face. He let out a miserable groan.

His thoughts wandered to the time Ardyn had tried to touch his face on the trip to the Disc. Gods, what would it have felt like if Ardyn’s fingertips would have actually caressed his cheek? Would his hands be warm? Calloused? Prompto knew Ardyn’s hands were big, not like comically, but like hearty, lumberjack sized hands (whatever the fuck that actually meant but it was working for Prompto). Gods, and what would it be like if Ardyn wrapped a large hand around Prompto’s cock— Prompto’s thoughts completely derailed when he felt Gladio shifting around in the bed next to him.

Prompto guiltily pulled the pillow off his head, shooting a look at the sleeping form of his bedmate. He sat up, balancing the pillow on top of his lap; trying to hide the erection now tenting his shorts should any of the guys wake up. Prompto huffed unhappily, waiting for a few minutes to make sure everyone else was asleep. Prompto hesitantly slid out of bed, slinking to the bathroom to deal with his problem in private.  
The next morning, over breakfast, Noctis shot Prompto a funny look. For a hysterical minute all Prompto could think was: Oh, GODS, he knows. Shit. Shit. Shit. “You sleep okay?” Noctis finally asked before he haphazardly shoved a bit of oatmeal into his mouth.

“Mmhm,” Prompto murmured, eyes darting to the side. Upon realizing how exceptionally guilty he seemed, Prompto feigned nonchalance and forced out:“Why, dude?”

“Dunno,” Noctis replied, shrugging up a shoulder. They chewed in silence for a moment before Noctis finally admitted with a lazy wave of his spoon: “You have bags under your eyes.”

“Oh,” Prompto’s mouth hung open for a moment, “Do I?”

“Yeah,” the edge of Noctis mouth curled up into a slight smile, “They’re huge. You look ridiculous.”

Prompto let out a hoarse laugh, reaching over the table to push Noctis’ shoulder, “Yeah, whatever, man.” Noctis batted Prompto’s hand away, scooting his chair back— the legs of the chair squealing against the ground in protest at the sudden movement.

* * *

Prompto’s worry—excitement—was misplaced, for he wasn’t the first member of the retinue to run into Ardyn once they arrived in Altissia. Rather, it was Ignis. Ignis had been meaning to speak with Weskham that evening, when, nearly out of thin air, Ardyn swooped in. 

“Ignis,” Ardyn greeted jovially, a hand snaking out to brush against Ignis arm, “A word?” Ignis was loathe to make a scene in the midst of the crowded restaurant, so he allowed himself to be guided to a more secluded corner outside by the waterway.

“Chancellor, If you think I will tell you anything about Noct, you are sorely mistaken,” Ignis’ words were a soft hiss. His eyes narrowed behind the lens of his glasses. Ardyn’s hand a warm weight on his bicep. A coy smile played up on the edges of Ardyn’s mouth as his eyes flicked down to where his fingers slid to curl around Ignis’ elbow. The expression was enough to set Ignis’ teeth on edge, and enough for him to correct his initial lapse in judgment: Ignis stepped backward, jerking his arm out of Ardyn’s hold.

Ardyn’s smile stretched out, lazily, “Oh, but I’m not here for Noct,” the name spoken with familiarity and comfort. He leaned closer, words whispered as though they were a secret: “I’m here for you.”

Ignis let out a dry scoff, reeling backward, “I told you before, Chancellor, I will not be a pawn in your games. If you want something, you had best get to it.”

“I have information about Lady Lunafreya,” Ardyn finally said.

“There is a price for it, I presume?”

“Oh, now,” Ardyn’s lips pursed— the fakeness of the gesture so put-on that Ignis had half a mind to laugh. Ardyn tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to mull over his options before he inclined his head back toward Weskham's bar, “Seeing as I am a man of simple tastes, I ask only for the pleasure of your company.”

Ignis’ lips thinned into a tense line, before he curtly nodded, “Alright, fine.”

“Wonderful,” Ardyn’s voice raising good-naturedly, gesturing with a swoop of his arm. Ignis’ jaw clenched before he headed back up under the overhang of the restaurant.Once they were settled at a secluded table in the back, Ardyn asked: “Anything in particular you’d like to drink?”

Ignis objectively knew he should just drink water; yet, the liquid courage could aid him in navigating the political landmine their conversation would inevitably devolve into. “I will have a Scotch, neat,” Ignis decided. Ardyn smiled, knowingly, in his demure-shiteating way. Once Ardyn had sauntered over to the bar, Ignis raised his fingers up to rub the bridge of his nose, trying to chase away the beginnings of a headache he felt. Quicker than he realized, a glass was being pushed in front of him.

Before Ardyn could say anything, Ignis swept up the drink and took a sip. The bite of the alcohol dragged along his throat as he swallowed. “You were saying, about the Oracle?” Ignis prompted, gently swirling the amber colored liquid in his glass.

Ardyn smiled amicably, reclining back in his seat, plucking his hat off his head to sit it down on the table. “Perhaps it best if you finish your drink first,” Ardyn noted, taking a sip of the red wine he had chosen for himself.

Ignis smiled tightly, a bite to his words: “I do believe we had a deal, Chancellor.” But, with no more fanfare, Ignis chugged the drink back. Setting the emptied glass on the table, he folded his hands in front of him, quirking an eyebrow up: “Back to business.”

Ardyn let out a dry laugh, musing “Your company in exchange for information; yet, so far you have been rather poor company indeed.”

“Then by all means, you are welcome to buy me another drink,” Ignis said, the scotch enough to make him the slightest bit more bold. Ignis was surprised when Ardyn actually stood up from the table. When Ardyn returned, he had two glasses of scotch in hand. He set both down in front of Ignis.

Ardyn settled back into his chair, a certain leisureliness to how he sat with his ankle crossed over his knee.“Perhaps this will slow you down, lest I have to make another trip to the bar.”

Ignis lifted one of the glasses. He breathed in the aroma of the malt, smiling against the rim of the glass, “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Ignis teased, a slight patronising tartness to his words. Ardyn, however, didn’t think much of his little show: he was content to sit back, nursing his drink.

Two drinks in and Ignis was suddenly feeling much more amicable. Ardyn wasn’t exactly charming, but under the haze of alcohol he was seeming like much better company; especially when he didn’t say anything. Warmness from the scotch settled in Ignis’ gut— pleasant, almost arousing. And surely he could forgive himself for such a reaction; afterall, due to the journey, he had unfortunately became celibate.

Three drinks in, and suddenly Ardyn was looking very good— rugged with stubble dotting his jaw, handsome, and so very tall. Ignis wanted to shove a hand up under the Chancellor’s coat to figure out exactly what kind of body the Chancellor was hiding under all those layers. Perhaps Ignis’ leer was starting to show on his face because Ardyn’s foot suddenly brushed against his ankle.

Ignis let out stilted laugh. “Footsie, Chancellor?” Ignis challenged, voice overly clipped as he fought not to slur.

“Nothing so untoward, I assure you,” Ardyn placated with a faux saccharine sweetness. He took another sip of his wine. A stray droplet of red clung to his lower lip. Ignis’ eyes zeroed in on it, fingers itching to rub it off. Ignis eyes locked with Ardyn’s right as Ardyn’s tongue flicked out, capturing the stray liquid. Ignis gulped dryly, past a lump forming in his throat. Ignis’ averted his gaze, taking another drink before he realized he was almost done.

Ignis rattled the almost empty glass in his hand— liquid sloshing as though to say ‘see, look, almost gone’. To drive the point home, Ignis coughed dryly before he unnecessarily reiterated:“I find myself nearly finished, Ardyn.”

“Indeed, you are,” Ardyn agreed, straightening up in his chair. “You are aware of Lunafreya’s presence in Altissia?”

“Of course,” Ignis noted, his nose wrinkled up in distaste at Ardyn’s apparent condescension.

Ardyn’s next words were spoken a bit softer, in an effort to soothe Ignis’ rumpled feathers, “Camelia plans to meet with Noctis in order to broker peace.”

“Yes, Noct met with the first secretary earlier this evening,” Ignis noted, lips tugging down into a frown. He pushed his glasses up, “I fear these pleasantries were a waste of my time.” Ignis drank the remainder of his scotch before he stood up from the table. The alcohol-induced amicability he had felt earlier was rapidly seeping out of his bones— leaving him to feel weary, drained. As such, he did little to hide the bit in his voice, “Evening,” Ignis began to say with a dismissive shrug of his shoulders, ready to head toward the exit.

“Ah-ah, not so fast,” Ardyn’s voice dipped to a low purr, his hand snaking out to grip Ignis’ wrist, “So impatient, dear boy. I’m afraid I’m not quite finished.” Ardyn unfolded himself from the table, placing his hat upon his head with a flourish.

“No, we are quite finished,” Ignis snapped, staggering slightly as he backed away from Ardyn. Ignis turned on his heel, fully intent to storm all the way back to the hotel. One look over his shoulder told him that Ardyn was following him. Just sauntering casually, with a self-satisfied smirk. Ignis wanted to wipe that stupid look right off his face. Ignis spun on his heel, lurching forward toward Ardyn.

Ignis’ hands closed over the lapels of Ardyn’s coat, pushing him back against the stone wall of the alley’s alcove. Ardyn let out a soft, low laugh at the look of hazy anger in Ignis’ eyes. Ardyn’s eyes flicked down to the soft swell of Ignis’ bottom lip. Ignis’ mouth parted as he let out a shaky exhale, his fingers tightening against Ardyn’s threadbare clothing.

Ardyn leaned down so that he could slot his mouth against Ignis’; his lips brushing against Ignis’ slack mouth. Ignis’ lips trembled against the rather chaste contact. “I will not be a part of your game,” Ignis’ words slurred against Ardyn’s lips before he was staggering up to kiss Ardyn properly.

One of Ignis’ hands tangled up in Ardyn’s hair, the other moving to slide inside Ardyn’s coat. The contact was cloying, on the edge of overwhelming. Tottering somewhere between wonderful and terrifying.

“I don’t like you,” Ignis managed to say in between kisses, his body pressing against Ardyn’s. A low, knowing hum reverberated through Ardyn’s chest. Ardyn’s hands closed over Ignis’ narrow hips, pulling Ignis flush against him. Ignis let out a soft groan, allowing Ardyn’s thigh to press in between his.

Ignis’ mouth tasted of alcohol, bitter and aromatic. His mild drunkenness made the kissing sloppy, a bit much for Ardyn’s taste, but it was pleasant enough. Certainly the feel of Ignis’ lean body against him more than made up for it.

Ardyn lifted up a hand, raking it through Ignis’ hair— purposely mussing the perfectly coiffed strands. Ignis let out a grunt in protest, catching Ardyn’s lower lip in between his teeth in warning. Ardyn’s hand caught on his hair hard in retaliation, purposefully yanking Ignis’ head back to bare his throat. Ardyn’s head lowered, his lips tracing against the strong line of Ignis’ jaw.

Ardyn spun them around, Ignis’ back smacking into the wall with enough force that his teeth rattled. A moan was forced out from Ignis’ throat as Ardyn’s body pinned him, he managed to say: “This means nothing.” He swallowed dryly as Ardyn’s lips kissed his pulsepoint, “Changes nothing.”

“But of course,” Ardyn’s words a soft murmur against Ignis’ neck. Ignis’ hand dropped to undo Ardyn’s belt, only for the Chancellor to grab his wrist. Ardyn pulled Ignis’ hand up, pinning it up above his head. Ignis’ eyes narrowed, mouth opening to argue before Ardyn’s lips closed over his, swallowing his protests.

Ardyn’s thigh pressed back in between Igns’ legs, Ignis grinding down. A strangled moan flew from Ignis’ mouth, his sudden arousal was dizzying, blood rushing from his head down between his legs. Ardyn’s hand closed over the soft swell of Ignis’ ass, hauling him close. Ignis moved, attempting to press a hand in between Ardyn’s legs when his wrist was once again being wrenched up.

“Ah-ah, you’re rather forward for the first date,” Ardyn replied enigmatically as he unbuckled Ignis’ belt with nimble fingers. His fingertips brushing against the tent in Ignis’ pants.

“Shy? I don’t kiss and tell,” Ignis remarked, letting out a low groan when Ardyn’s hand palmed against his crotch. “And, your hand is on my cock,” his sentence broke off into a gasp when Ardyn’s hand tugged down his pants, freeing his erection, “As such, it would only be fair that— ”

“Do be quiet for a moment,” Ardyn chided, hand moving to curl around Ignis’ cock. He thumbed at the bead of precome forming on the head, which was enough to send Ignis gasping once more. Ardyn tapped two of his fingers against Ignis’ lips. It took embarrassingly long for Ignis’ drunken mind to catch up as to what was expected.

Ignis held up a finger, “One moment,” before a jar of lube appeared in between his fingers in a rush of blue sparks.

“Oh, my boy, that seems a terrible misuse of royal powers. What would the ancient kings of Lucis think?”

“Convenience,” Igns argued, uncapping the lube before he pressed it into Ardyn’s waiting hand. Ardyn gave Ignis’ cock three long strokes before he was pressing one lubed finger against the puckered rim of Ignis’ ass. A sharp exhale of air exited Ignis’ mouth in a hiss as the finger breached him. Ignis’ head tipped forward, forehead resting on Ardyn’s shoulder, fingers digging into the lapels of Ardyn’s coat. Ignis let out a sharp groan when Ardyn’s hand continued pumping his cock.

Ardyn pulled his finger out— Ignis letting out a grunt of surprise— before he twisted Ignis around. Ignis, dangerously close to having his head smack into the wall, caught himself with his forearms bracketed on either side of his head. “What about—” Ignis began to protest, looking over his shoulder, before Ardyn’s hand was back on his cock, and two of his fingers were pushing inside him. Ignis let out a stilted, strangled noise as Ardyn’s fingers crooked up inside him. Ignis’ back arched, hips pushing back.

Ignis’ head dipped down, letting out a sharp inhale that broke into a groan as Ardyn began to pump his cock in time with the thrust of his fingers. “Are you not—” Ignis tried to protest again, only to be stopped by Ardyn’s thumb flicking over the head of his cock, fingers driving up deep inside him.

Ignis found himself embarrassingly close, body flushed with his cock dripping. All it took was a few more well placed thrusts from Ardyn’s fingers and he was cumming. Ignis nearly whited out, body pleasant and warm. Ignis’ forehead pressed against the cool stone, breath escaping in soft pants. Ignis twisted back around, pants gathered around his thighs as he looked up at Ardyn: who looked almost completely unaffected.

Ignis tried to catch his breath, chest heaving, back pressing heavily into the wall. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a quiet grunt before he hiked his pants up, trying to straighten himself up. Ardyn caught Ignis’ chin in between his forefinger and thumb, tilting Ignis’ head up. Ardyn moved his head closer, lips pressing against the side of Ignis’ jaw.

“Ignis, I am a man of my word,” Ardyn’s voice dipped dangerously low against Ignis’ ear, “As promised: Niflheim plans to kill Lunafreya tomorrow.”

Ignis, panting and sweat-damp, only replied: “They can damn well try.”

* * *

When Ignis managed to stagger back to their room at The Leville, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into the shower. He knew he must look a mess— how else could one look after a romp in an alley, honestly.

Ignis pried the doorknob open, nearly stumbling into the room. Light from the hallway spilled into the darkness of the hotel room, illuminating the two double beds. Ignis let out a sigh of relief upon noticing the rest of the retinue tucked away in bed. Ignis gently closed the door, fingers brushing against the wall to guide him through the pitch-blackness of the room

Little did Ignis know that his footsteps were enough to cause Prompto to stir. Prompto rolled over, sitting up just in time to see Ignis slip away into the bathroom. Prompto ran a hand down his face, chasing away the last, sticky vestiges of sleep. Prompto pushed himself out of bed, going to softly knock on the bathroom door.

“A moment please,” Ignis’ voice was a low drawl— there was a grittiness clinging to his tone, which was unlike the normal smoothness of his voice. “Something you need?” Ignis asked, peering out the doorway. His eyes were slightly squinted without his glasses.

“You were out late,” Prompto noted with a yawn.

“I apologize if I woke you.”

“Nah, no worries,” Prompto said, “I was having some weird dreams. Spiracorns, man, weird.”

“In that case, I am happy to have helped,” Ignis voice was a low tease, a surprisingly warm smile on his face. Ignis turned around, turning on the faucet to splash water on his face.

“Sooo, what were you up to?” Prompto asked, creeping closer to lean against the doorway. He took in how messed up Ignis’ hair was, tawny strands free from their normal style, how his shirt was wrinkled and stained with dirt. Before Prompto could really think about the state of the other man, Ignis was responding.

“I had a meeting with Weskim, and his bar turned out to be the perfect place to get a better idea of the locals,” Ignis tipped his head toward Prompto, “And their opinions of the empire and Oracle.”

“Mmm,” Prompto hummed, “Fun stuff.” Prompto’s toe nudged against the ground... speaking of locals, they were supposed to help evacuate them tomorrow. The thought was enough to cause a low knot of dread to form in his stomach.

“I'm gonna go for a jog,” Prompto decided aloud. Ignis quirked an eyebrow but considering he had been hanging out at a bar all night he was hardly in a position to argue. Prompto sulked off, closing the bathroom door before Ignis had a chance to actually voice an opinion. Prompto shrugged into his shirt and pulled on his pants— barely remembering to grab his camera (just in case) and a hotel key before he was off.

The dewiness of the night air did little to quell the anxiety blooming in Prompto’s chest. Before he could crawl any further into his head, he set out running at a brisk pace.

* * *

An hour later, and Prompto was mopping the sweat off his forehead. He checked the time on his phone: white numbers showing 4:32 am. He had half a mind to snap a few pictures of Altissia at night, but before he’d ever committed to the thought he noticed a familiar figure. He was walking along the edge of the waterway, his steps somewhere between wistful and sad. But then he noticed Prompto.

Ardyn’s eyes crinkled up with obvious surprise and amusement, his voice a jovial crowing: “Fancy meeting you here.”

Prompto was so surprised, mouth hanging open dumbly, that he only managed to make a sort of... gurgling sound.

“Now, what brings you out onto the streets of Altissia at an hour such as this?” Ardyn asked, head tipping to the side in a manner that resembled an overlarge cat. His eyes were hooded with interest, coy little smile curling up the edges of his mouth.

Prompto just nodded. Nodded. It was a good twenty seconds before he realized that nodding was not an actual answer so he stammered out, waving his hand around stupidly: “Just, ya know, running.”

“Ah, yes, running,” Ardyn said the word distastefully, as though he had eaten something particularly foul, “Young people have such peculiar hobbies, don’t they?”

“I guess?”

Ardyn was silent, simply studying Prompto. Prompto fought off goosebumps, just Ardyn’s gaze was enough to give him the chills— really, who wanted to be looked at like some sort of experiment? Like an egg left in a cup of ebony for days until it disintegrated into mushy nothingness. “Loathe as I am to say this, I must admit my surprise at having run into two of his Royal Highness’ retainers in one night.”

Prompto was about to say something stupid, before he backpedaled, physically lurching back, “Wait—what?”

Ardyn nodded primly, “Oh yes, I saw Ignis earlier this evening. I admit, the circumstances of our meeting where not quite so unique as this.” His words were enough for Prompto to divert his gaze, crossing his arms across his chest. After all, it wasn’t that weird to be walking around outside at Gods-know-when in the middle of the night. Or, better yet, in the very early morning. “He also had very little interest in...” Ardyn paused, tapping a finger against his chin, “Oh, yes, pleasantries. His words.”

Ardyn took a step forward, leaning down slightly to study Prompto’s face closer, “But I suspect your interests are different.”

Prompto’s eyes flicked up to momentarily lock with Ardyn’s, lips numbly moving: “Are they?”

“Merely a hunch, dear boy,” Ardyn replied as Prompto’s eyes darted off to the side. Ardyn slide a finger underneath Prompto’s chin.

The sudden contact was enough to send Prompto reeling backward: his movement only halted by Ardyn’s thumb firmly pinning his chin in place. Prompto was all but forced to meet Ardyn’s gaze as his chin was tilted upward, body giving a shrill jolt when he realized that Ardyn’s hands were calloused, but not overly warm. “Uh, hey, what’re you doing!?” Prompto exclaimed, one of his hands shooting to grab onto Ardyn’s wrist. For all his protests, Prompto didn’t try to pry Ardyn’s hand off nor did he try to back away. Rather, Prompto just stood completely still, clutching Ardyn’s wrist.

Ardyn’s head tipped downward, putting his lips dangerously close to Prompto’s; which certainly seemed like a sign of interest to Prompto. So, Prompto lurched forward, closing his mouth over Ardyn’s. Ardyn’s lips were dry, slightly chapped. There was a floral taste on his breath, a sweetness like wine overlaying something musky, earthy.

“Hey,” Prompto’s head tilted to the side, separating their lips for a moment, “I don’t— ”

Ardyn’s lips curved up into a smirk, hand moving to cradle Prompto’s jaw: “It is a mite too late for regrets considering the situation you have found yourself in.”

“I guess,” Prompto pulled his lower lip into his mouth, “But...”

“I am an old man, Prompto,” Ardyn said, drawing backward suddenly— faster than Prompto thought he could move, “If your only intention is to tease me, then be off.” Ardyn swiped a piece of lint off of his coat sleeve, the gesture purposefully dismissive. It left Prompto with a coldness clawing in his chest.

“No, that’s not— ” Prompto exclaimed, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He moved forward. “It’s just... You’re a Nif.”

“Still judging me for the place of my birth, I see.”

“No, no,” Prompto waved his hands rapidly before one hand closed on Ardyn’s sleeve, “It’s just... Noct.”

Ardyn moved his lips so that they pressed against Prompto’s ear, “If you do not see it fit to inform your King, then neither do I. We are merely trading in the pleasures of the flesh.” Prompto inhaled sharply, head bobbing in a nod as Ardyn continued: “You are not beholden to me.”

Prompto canted his head to the side, catching Ardyn’s lower lip between is teeth in a short nip before he said, “Okay, deal.” Ardyn dipped his head down, mouth connecting with Prompto’s in another kiss. Prompto moaned softly, lips parting as Ardyn’s tongue swiped against his mouth.

Prompto craned his head up, sidling up closer to Ardyn. In his haste, he ended up stepping on Ardyn’s foot. “Oh, shit,” Prompto cursed, tearing his mouth away in his hasty apology.

Ardyn seemed largely unperturbed— which only made Prompto feel a little bit better; after all, who wanted to step on their hook-up? Yikes. Ardyn moved to kiss him again, which made Prompto want to apologize more profusely, “Really— ” Prompto started. Ardyn’s eyes narrowed, mouth twisting into a grimace.

“Do keep it together,” Ardyn lowly remarked, voice as though he was critiquing a particularly dull child— one that wanted to eat crayons after being told they were inedible four times previously. It was enough to make Prompto’s face light up red with an embarrassed flush.

“Yeah, okay, can do,” before Prompto could finish his— mostly self indulgent— pep talk, Ardyn managed to distract him. Ardyn’s arm slid around his back, pulling him tightly to his chest. Prompto let out a grunt of surprise before Ardyn basically hauled him up off his feet. Prompto wrapped his legs around Ardyn’s middle, momentarily surprised again by the sturdy mass of the other man.

Prompto felt the need to stupidly say, “You’re strong. What kinda body you packing under that coat?” Ardyn, rather than answer one of Prompto’s inanine inquiries, distracted him with another kiss. Prompto’s hands dug into Ardyn’s shoulders— The chancellor letting out a low grunt in protest.

“Shit,” Prompto babbled in between his lips connecting with Ardyn’s. His lower lip pushed in between Ardyn’s before his tongue flicked out. Prompto groaned into the kiss, before tensing, and nearly falling backward, “Six.” Luckily, before Prompto could find a way to fall either on Ardyn or on the pavement (and crack his head open like a watermelon, no doubt), he was being set down on the ground. “Wait, wait, privacy,” Prompto whispered conspiratorially. Then he noticed the empty Gondola.

A smile stretched out across Prompto’s face as he all but dragged Ardyn over to the Gondola. Prompto nearly fell on his ass getting into the boat. Once Prompto had his barings, Ardyn’s hand closed on his chest, pushing him to sit on one of the plush seats. Prompto let out a groan of surprise as Ardyn nimbly undid his pants, pulling them down around his ankles.

“Oh, whoa,” Prompto mumbled, blushing hard when he noticed how desperate he looked. His erection flushed and leaking everywhere when they had only been kissing. Ardyn’s lips curled up into a smirk, eyes glittering and hooded. Ardyn settled in between Prompto’s legs, large hands settling on his lean thighs. Prompto let out a broken groan when Ardyn spread his legs apart, leaning down so his warm breath ghosted against Prompto’s cock. Prompto let out a sharp cry when Ardyn’s mouth closed over the head.

Prompto smacked a hand over his mouth, groaning against his palm as Ardyn’s tongue flicked against the slit of his cock. Prompto fought not to wiggle his hips up, biting down on his hand. Ardyn bobbed his head back and forth, cheeks hollowed.

When Ardyn took Prompto to the root, Prompto’s hand shot out to clutch onto Ardyn’s hair; which only served to knock Ardyn’s hat off his head. Prompto let out a strangled apology before his fingers tangled up in the reddish-pink strands anyway. Prompto’s hips stuttered up, “Oh, I’m gonna— ” before he could finish the sentence Ardyn’s fingers were stroking against his balls. “Shit— !” Prompto gasped, cock jerking up. Prompto could barely comprehend his orgasm, world electric and good. Prompto let out a low groan as Ardyn pulled off his cock. Prompto bit his hand again in shock when Ardyn swallowed and then licked his lips. Prompto let out a stilted little groan before he fell back, propped up on his elbows.

Prompto’s mouth felt cottony and heavy, he was barely able to ask: “Do you...?” with a gesture in Ardyn’s general direction.

“Ah, no,” Ardyn said with a shake of his head as he got up to his feet. Ardyn swiped his hat off the ground, placing it back atop his head. The smug bastard’s tongue flicking out over his swollen lower lip.

“Next time?” Prompto offered up sheepishly as he sunk back on the bench, content to lay for a moment. Ardyn hummed lowly in acknowledgment. “Uh, thanks,” Prompto mumbled, wiggling his pants back up. “For a Nif, you’re not so bad.”

“High praise indeed,” Ardyn murmured dryly, adjusting the brim of his hat.

Prompto nodded dumbly, blissed out and staring up at the stars, “So, yeah, thanks.”


	2. The inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short interlude of how the events of episode Ignis and episode Prompto unfold.

“Rather than follow this flotsam away to a watery grave, why not come with me?” Ardyn’s hand extended down, as though to hep Ignis up. Ignis clenched his jaw, shoulder protesting from the grip of the MT’s.

Ignis strained against the metal fingers digging into his flesh, “You take me for a fool,” Ignis’s lips curled up into a snarl, baring his teeth.

“Oh come now,” Ardyn’s voice dipped low, into a tease as he crouched down in front of Ignis, “I do so enjoy fools.” Ignis lunged forward, much like a feral dog snapping its teeth. Ardyn was unable to hide the pleasure that lit up his eyes at seeing Ignis reduced to a dirty, matted animal.  
Ignis twisted out of the MT’s grasp, his knee striking against the seawater damp ground before he threw the metal soldiers off. Ignis stumbled to the side, bruised knee twinging in protest.

Ignis leaned heavily, favoring his uninjured leg, chest heaving. Ignis held out the blue ring cradled in his palm, “I swore an oath to stand by Noct.”

Ardyn unfolded himself from the ground, his eyes narrowing, “Where did you—”

“No matter the cost,” Ignis reiterated, staring at the ring, “I will protect him!”

“Then you are a fool indeed,”Ardyn noted cruely, a clear laugh spilling from his mouth. Ignis gritted his teeth as he slipped the ring onto his finger.

Ignis’ world whited out into blinding, blue flame. Ears ringing with the sound of screams. “If a glaive can harness its power, then so can I!” Ignis shouted past the hoarse ache in his throat.

The word narrowed to the fire licking against his skin, the booming voices of the dead in his head. Ignis’ forehead throbbed, damaged flesh of his face singed and stinging.

When Ignis came back to himself, it was to a world burning. Ignis let out a shaky breath, hand clutched against his left eye. He blinked against the sparks in his damaged vision.

Suddenly, in a rush of crackling mauve, Ardyn was in front of him. Ardyn stared down his nose at Ignis, voice low and growling, “So they have found you worthy after all.” Ignis summoned his daggers to his hands, but before he was given a chance to attack, Ardyn back-handed him across the face.

Ignis skidded to the ground, landing hard on his hands. The skin of his hands peeling and raw, burning against the brine-coated stone. A line of blood dripped down his chin from his busted lip. Then, the heel of a boot slammed into his side.

Ignis let out a stilted cry, his back slamming into the hard earth. He let out a wheezy breath, ribs protesting the movement. Ardyn merely cocked his head to the side, hands dangling by his side as though he wasn’t even trying.

Ignis, taking a deep breath against his aching ribs, waited until Ardyn was close enough; then he kipped up from the ground, sore back protesting as he lunged forward with his polearm. Ardyn twisted to the side, feigning to dust off his sleeve. Ignis’ let out a frustrated shout, striking out with a flurry of daggers. Ardyn laughed, parrying each strike with little more than a flick of his wrist. Ignis’ form grew sloppy from pain and exertion, he lunged too far forward, and then Ardyn was behind him, his foot slamming into the back of Ignis’ ankle.

Ignis fell to the ground, hard, already-bruised knees exploding with pain. “Do stay down, Ignis, you wouldn’t want to grievously injure yourself any further,” Ardyn taunted as Ignis staggered back up to his feet, daggers held up defensively.

“Has this experience been as satisfying for you as it has for me?” Ardyn’s voice parodic, like a cheap rug soaked in snake oil, as Ignis charged forward. Ignis felt the cold chill of the ice from his weapons, but it didn’t phase Ardyn, who merely let out another laugh. Ignis heard the shrill cry of metal-on-metal as Ardyn’s sword caught on his daggers, Ignis’ weapons slipping off to the side.

Before Ignis could raise his weapons, Ardyn’s hand was knotting up in his shirt, “Unfortunately, I have to cut this short,” Ardyn noted, effortlessly throwing Ignis down onto the ground. Ignis let out a cry, daggers slipping from his numb fingers, pain radiating up his body. “Do give my regards to the young prince.” And, then Ardyn simply _left_.

The ring, cruel weight that it was, fell off Ignis’ finger humming with energy. Ignis staggered forward, up onto aching limbs, stumbling to catch the ring in his palm, his body doing little more than crawl. He flopped onto his back, ring falling away from him once more. He could hear it roll across the ground. Ignis extended his hand out toward it and found himself unable to reach. His arm fell limp, fingers curled against the wet ground.

* * *

“What’s the matter? Have you never seen a man turn before?” Verstael Besithia asked him, black oozing down his face and in his veins, “if those Lucians hadn’t intervened, you could have turned, too.”

“Why me?” Prompto hated that his voice cracked.

“Because you were cloned from this genius’s genes, born of my own flesh and blood,” Verstael raised his hand before continuing: “you are but one of millions created to serve our great empire in the magitek infantry.”

“Created… to serve you?”

“Yes, and now you’ve finally come home to Niflheim, my son."

Prompto shot the gun once into the air, shouting “Shut up!” the tears that had been welling in his eyes finally slipped down his cheek, “you’re wrong… I’m a Lucian!” his lip wobbled, his voice rose frantically: “I am not one of your experiments.”

“Not anymore. Now you’re nothing but a failure,” Verstael walked closer, and Prompto looked away, wet eyelashes blinking rapidly. “I ought to return you whence you came. Perhaps then you might serve some useful purpose,” the right side Verstael’s face began to be eaten away by oily darkness.

“Never!” spilled out of Prompto’s mouth, he raised his gun up defiantly.

The gun in Prompto’s hand shook, “With your help, my ascension to divinity is now all but complete,” Verstael walked forward, Prompto’s gun lowering, “soon, neither the kings of Lucis nor the gods themselves will be able to challenge my reign!” with that announcement his hand clamped down on Prompto’s shoulder.

Then Verstael’s face dissolved into inky pitch, his hand reaching up toward Prompto’s face. Prompto’s eyes flicked away, unable to look as he raised his gun back up. He inhaled sharply before his finger squeezed the trigger. Prompto shuddered as he heard Verstael’s body fall to the floor with a thump.

Prompto sank onto his knees, the gun slipping out of his hand and clattering onto the floor. “Look what you’ve done, you’ve gone homicidal—nay, patricidal,” Ardyn exclaimed, Prompto could see him out of the corner of his eye leering at him. Shit-eating grin plastered over his face.

“No…”

“You lose your friends and murder your family. Now you’ve no one left,” the false pity in Ardyn’s voice made Prompto’s skin crawl. Ardyn held up a finger, solemnly waving it side-to-side,“Not one single soul.”

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Prompto slammed his hands onto the floor hopelessly.

Ardyn laughed at him, which Prompto wouldn’t normally care about –plenty of people had laughed at him before– but it was all the worse _considering_. Prompto was unable to stop the tears that fell down his cheeks as he sobbed in earnest, face itchy and an ugly blotchy red: “Shut up!”

“Oh, but of course,”Ardyn’s arms stretched out as he bowed his chest, “My presence won’t disturb you any further. Undoubtedly it’s best you remain entirely alone during a difficult, trying time such as this.” Prompto saw Ardyn leaving from his peripheral, his stride unhurried and relaxed. Prompto let out a frustrated cry, slamming a palm against the ground.

Prompto’s shoulders shook. He lifted up his hands, the barcode on his wrist smiling and winking with its black lines and numbers. Prompto clenched his hands into fists, dropping his head into his them as his body was wracked with sobs.

* * *

The halls of Zegnautus Keep had grown cold, the hum of magic that had permeated its metal skeleton had stopped— and with it, the hordes of daemons had fled to the streets of Gralea; which was fortunate for Noctis’ retinue, lest they be torn apart right next to the crystal that now housed their prince.

Ardyn had left long before, after he had finished gloating, leaving the halls now utterly quiet. Ignis had a single hand pressed to the now-silent flank of the crystal. “He’ll... He’ll be okay, right?” Prompto asked, hands fluttering around uselessly, fighting the urge to touch the crystal, in a vain attempt to see if he could feel Noct, or to try and comfort Ignis.

The fingers of Ignis’ other hand were clenched white against his cane, all he could manage was a sharp shake of his head. Ignis’ throat bobbed as he dryly swallowed

“Yeah,” Gladio said, hand gently closing over Ignis’ shoulder, “We gotta worry about us, Prom. Won’t do Noct any good if we get killed now.” Gladio squeezed Ignis' shoulder before he walked down the metal walkway, staring out into the open bay.

“So, Ardyn was—is,” Prompto’s words stammered out, leaning closer to Ignis, “He’s... Dead? Daemonic?”

Ignis let out a dry scoff, lips pulling into a grimace as he corrected: “The immortal accursed.”

Prompto pulled his lower lip into his mouth, hand finding the small of Ignis’ back when Gladio gestured them over, calling, “It’s all clear.”

Prompto’s words dropped low as he asked Ignis, “But he was so... normal-ish.” Ignis tilted his head toward him, eyebrow quirked up as Prompto corrected: “Okay, well he _looked_ normal, he wasn’t an undead goop-monster.”

“He has fooled us all repeatedly,” Ignis let out a biting sigh, “Perfectly content to use us—” Ignis’ voice hitched before he stopped speaking, letting out a harsh laugh as his frustrated, angry words broke off.

“C’mon, we gotta get moving,” Gladio cut in once they reached him, “We don’t know if the daemons are going to come back.”

Prompto chewed on his chapped lower lip nervously before finally saying, “Okay, yeah, you’re right." Ignis' death-white grip on his cane loosened as he gave a single nod in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to decide how quickly to post the remaining chapters, however I figured I'd put this one up shortly after the first chapter since it's much shorter.  
> Would people prefer frequent updates (every day or two) or updates once a week?


	3. After everything changed...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years later, Ignis and Prompto find themselves in a difficult situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings again for dub-con, and this time for ableist language. (end-notes have detailed explanations)

“You know, we’re getting close to the Citadel, Igs,” Prompto noted as he turned the wheel of the truck, heading down one of Insomnia’s many empty side-streets.

“Indeed,” Ignis noted, fingers tracing against the raised bumps on the map in his lap. It was a treasured gift from Talcott: a tactile map of Insomnia rendered with raised lines and braille labels. “Take a left here.”

Prompto shivered when the daemon-repellent headlights of the car lit up a pair of glittering eyes. Whatever it was scurried off in a blur of thick, black fur. “Keep your eyes peeled, Prompto,” Ignis said, “We should be getting close.”

Prompto squinted against the darkness, “Are you sure about this, Iggy?” the outline of Kenny Crow just barely noticeable up ahead. But there it was: The flagship Kenny Crow Home and Gardening store—one of a kind in all of Insomnia (probably for good reason).

The corner of Ignis’ lip curved up into a small smile, “We should be safe. With any luck, our presence should be unobtrusive enough not to attract unwanted attention.” Ignis unbuckled his seatbelt once Prompto had parked the car.

“Okay, let’s go,” Prompto replied, pulling the key from the ignition before he strapped a flashlight to his vest. Prompto slid out of the car after Ignis. Kenny Crow’s beady black eyes, beak-open smiling face with its chipped, weather-worn paint grinned down at the duo. Prompto shuddered as he took a look at the mascot's expression. Prompto, eager to escape the painted gaze of Kenny, pushed open the door, which creaked open on broken hinges. Ignis’ cane tapped against the tiled floor as they entered.

Inside, the store was a mess of terra cotta pieces, decayed plant matter, and dirt. Ignis sniffed, nose twitching as he breathed the stagnant, musty air. Prompto got to work looking over the shelves, stuffing packets of vegetable seeds into his pockets. The seeds would be planted under the full-spectrum, fluorescent lights set up around Hammerhead as a sort of makeshift greenhouse. Hopefully some of the seeds would germinate, if they didn't... Well, it wasn't worth considering. At the moment, they had bigger concerns, for all the quiet of the store, the streets were growing _noisy_. 

Ignis could distinguish a particular sound among the cacophony outside: a shrill, piercing squeal punctuated by deep groaning. Ignis titled his head to the side, frowning deeply. “Uh, Iggy, do you hear that?” Prompto asked as he skidded over to the window, looking out into inky darkness.

“A daemon, no doubt,” Ignis’ voice a quiet murmur, “Is it close?”

Prompto’s eyes strained against the dark, and then he saw it: the huge, hulking mass of eyes and teeth. “Iggy,” Prompto stammered out, backing away from the window.

For a hysterical moment, Prompto was reminded of the last conversation they’d had with Gladio:

> “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” Gladio had remarked, arms folded across his large chest.
> 
> Ignis hummed lowly in acknowledgment. The noise Gadio’s only indication Ignis heard as he continued finely chopping up the clove of garlic in front of him.
> 
> “I’m serious, Igs.”
> 
> Prompto clapped a hand against Gladio’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, big guy.”
> 
> “Of course I’m going to worry,” Gadio groused, gesturing indignantly toward where Ignis was ambling about the kitchen. “Iggy never listens!”
> 
> “Do not treat me like an invalid,” Ignis finally snapped, slamming the knife onto the counter. The cutting board rattled, pieces of garlic slipping off. Prompto bit his lip before he glanced the other way, crossing his arms around himself.
> 
> “I’m not!” Gladio snapped back, throwing his hands up. Gladio shook his head before he stomped out of Takka’s diner. Ignis gritted his teeth, hands clenched against the counter.
> 
> Prompto slid into one of the cheap red faux-leather seats. He extended a hand, gently poking Ignis’ closed fist. Ignis’ shoulders slumped downward, he gave his head a small shake. Ignis unclenched his hand, turning it over so he could link his fingers with Prompto’s.
> 
> “If we do nothing, Hammerhead may very well starve in the coming weeks,” Ignis finally said, “It’s been two years, you know the supplies have dwindled.” With his free hand, Ignis pushed his dark glasses up higher on his nose. It went unsaid that the few supplies Lestallum had acquired would not be moving out to aid those starving further out west.
> 
> Prompto’s fingertips tapped against the back of Ignis’ hand, “I know,” He leaned closer, over the counter, “Anyway, as long as we aren’t stupid...” Prompto’s voice drawled before he pressed a kiss against the side of Ignis’ mouth, “Gladio can’t complain.”
> 
> Ignis’ lips spread into a smile, showing his white teeth, “Then we will just have to try not to be stupid.”

Running into a giant daemon in the middle of daemon territory surely counted as being stupid. “Iggy, we gotta go,” Prompto repeated, hand closing on Ignis’ arm to pull him outside.

Ignis could hear the thundering steps of the daemon getting closer. Prompto fumbled with the keys, hastily trying to unlock the car. Ignis’ hand closed over Prompto’s, stilling his movements, “There isn’t time. Use a flare if you have one.”

“Okay,” Prompto walked forward, pointing the flare gun at the writhing mass of glittering eyes. “Let me brighten your— ” Before he was finished, something hard slammed into his side, knocking Prompto to the ground. Prompto’s finger squeezed the trigger in surprise, flare zipping up overhead.

“Prompto!” Ignis cried, summoning his daggers to his hands.

Prompto sat up, rubbing the back of his neck before exclaiming: “3 o’clock!” As the words left his mouth, Ignis threw a dagger in the daemon’s direction. The creature gave a sharp, howling cry when one of its eyes were impaled by the dagger. Prompto hopped up to his feet before shooting another flare— this one connecting with the daemon’s side in a burst of sparks.

“Are you hurt?” Ignis checked as he stepped next to Prompto— his cane lying on the ground forgotten as he held two daggers up defensively.

“Nope,” Prompto’s voice popped, clapping Ignis arm before he aimed his gun at the daemon. Then some writhing appendage slammed in between them, cracking open the concrete. Ignis jumped to the side, before burying his lance into the daemon’s tender flesh. Prompto skidded on the ground, rolling out of the way. The smell of burnt flesh heavy from the daemon.

“Iggy, its healing!” Prompto called out sharply, watching in horror as the daemon’s damaged flesh began to mend itself. Ignis pulled his lance free, jumping out of the way as the daemon made to hit him once again.

“We do not have time,” Ignis warned, distantly he could hear the shrill laughter of goblins...Undoubtedly, they, along with others, would be drawn by the sounds of the battle. Eager for fresh meat after these long two years. “We must go.”

Prompto slid over to the truck, pulling on the door before the truck was melting right in front of him. Green slime dripped out from the creature’s smiling mouth, a low reverberating groan shaking the ground.The curdling, stinking smell of sulfur and burnt rubber overwhelming pungent. "It shoots acid!” Prompto hollered as Ignis’ hand closed on the back of his shirt and hauled him backward. 

“Yes, I can smell that,” Ignis replied as he grabbed Prompto’s arm and pulled him along. 

“Here, here,” Prompto chanted, "Tight space to our right!" Prompto took the lead to guide Ignis into a tight crevice between two of the buildings. They slid along the side of the buildings, the daemon’s loud cries following them. “Where do we go?” Prompto asked, trying not to look up at the goblins that were leaning over the sides of the building overhead, leering.

When they were out of the crevice, they weren’t much safer, for the creature had opted to crawl overtop the buildings in pursuit of them. Prompto took off running, holding Ignis’ hand in his. “Where to?” Prompto desperately asked again, looking over his shoulder at the large, lumbering form following them.

“The Citadel.”

Prompto nearly stopped running before Ignis was tugging him along, “What!? Why?”

“The daemons do not go near it,” Ignis replied, “For the same reasons we have avoided it thus far.” Ignis pulled Prompto along in the direction of the Citadel. Prompto sped up, pulling Ignis slightly behind him. 

“Okay, but that’s because _Ardyn_ ,” Prompto stressed even as he made his way toward the large form of Insomnia’s crown jewel. When they reached the courtyard, Prompto let out a sigh of relief for their pursuant was rearing back in fear.

Prompto’s relief was short-lived however. “Oh, shit,” Prompto cursed, as the daemon mustered up the courage to cross the threshold, teeth bared in a snarl. It let out a sharp cry when Ignis threw a fiery bomb at it, its skin exploding into large welts.

“Inside, hurry,” Ignis ordered as Prompto stumbled to the large stone door. Prompto pried the door open, nudging Ignis inside before he slammed the door shut. They were trapped in the Citadel in complete darkness but for Prompto’s flashlight. No sound but their heavy breathing. The air reeked of dust and neglect.

“Abandoned once again,” A voice noted off to the side. Prompto spun around as Ignis’ lips twisted into a grimace.

“ _Ardyn_ ,” Ignis bit out. Prompto’s hand gave his a gentle squeeze before he drew away.

“Ah, am I no longer _Chancellor_?” Ardyn asked, voice amused as he took a step closer to where they stood by the door.

“And, what would you be Chancellor of? This ruined world?” Ignis let out a derisive snort as he gestured to the room.

Ardyn let out a laugh, shaking his head, “You’re right, perhaps _Majesty_ would be a more suitable title befitting my position.”

Ignis’ damaged eyes narrowed into a glare behind his glasses, lip curling up, “Never.”

“Yet, here you come, uninvited,” Ardyn’s voice dipped into a low feline purr, “Expecting me to play host to you when so far you have been utterly ungrateful.”

“And whose fault is that?!” Ignis snapped, lunging forward before Prompto’s fingers tangled up in his sleeve to hold him back.

“Iggy,” Prompto quietly pleaded, drawing Ignis backward. Prompto took a step forward, anging his body in front of Ignis.“Uh, we can leave,” His eyes darted to the side as he pointed back at the doorway over his shoulder.

“Oh, nonsense,” Ardyn replied with a fluttering wave of his hand, “I wouldn’t dream of sending you away, not after you traveled all the way out here.” He strolled closer, studying first Prompto and then Ignis, “And, this was Ignis’ home for many years so undoubtedly it must hold some...” Ardyn paused, a smile stretching across his lips, “....Sentimental value.”

Ignis’ lip curled up again, “You—” he started.

Ardyn leaned over, a finger curling underneath the metal chain of Ignis’ necklace to pull him closer, “Do play nice, Ignis. Afterall, it is not unheard of for us to _exchange pleasantries_.” Ignis lurched backward, the chain digging into the nape of his neck.

Ardyn let out a laugh—clear and cruel—before he released Ignis’ necklace. Ardyn shot Prompto a look that was awfully knowing, as though only they were privy to a particular secret. “Come along,” Ardyn said as he gestured for them to follow him deeper into the Citadel. Prompto jumped when the lights began to slowly flick on one-by-one as they made their way down the hallway. Prompto’s hand came to rest on Ignis’ lower back, in the guise of helping guide him (really, Prompto did it for his own comfort). When they reached one of many sitting rooms on the first floor, Ardyn gestured for them to enter. Prompto and Ignis took a seat on a garish, overstuffed sofa.

“Regale me: what brings you wandering into my dominion?” Ardyn asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Uh,” Prompto gaped, mouth hanging open, “Things.” When Ardyn shot him a _look_ , one of unadulterated displeasure, Prompto corrected, “Daemons.”

“We were being chased,” Ignis admitted with a sigh, “Had we any other choice, we would not be here.”

“You expect me to shield you, _unwittingly_ might I add,” Ardyn said, circling around the sofa. Prompto felt the hair on his arms stand up on edge. Ardyn’s hand traced along the back of the couch, “And then you evade my questions with half answers.”

“We were looking for supplies,” Prompto finally said, twisting around in his seat to look back at Ardyn. When Ardyn actually met Prompto’s gaze, the gunman looked away, sucking his lower lip into his mouth nervously.

“Stealing from the good citizens of Insomnia while they are away from their businesses?” Ardyn tsked his tongue, voice one of mocking, put-on concern. It made Ignis’ skin crawl. “I never took you for looters.”

“You never took us for much of anything,” Ignis bit out. Prompto shuddered at the venom in Ignis’ voice, glancing up to study Ardyn’s face, to see his reaction to Ignis’ words.

“Ah, always so difficult to please,” Ardyn teased, his hand reached forward and plucked Prompto’s chin jovially. Although his tone was a mockery of happiness, his expression was anything but: his eyes narrowed and eyebrows slanted low. “On the contrary, dear boy, I take you both for many things. And there are many things I could take from you yet,” Ardyn’s voice dipped low, purposefully cryptic.

“As soon as the daemon is gone, we’ll take our leave,” Ignis said, before reluctantly adding, “If it suits you.”

“Oh, but it doesn’t.”

Prompto gaped, spouting out: “What? What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t suit me,” Ardyn replied from where he loomed over their seated forms, “Rather, it would be best if you both were to remain safely tucked away in the Citadel for the time being.” Before either of them could argue, Ardyn continued: “I really must insist, this deal is nonnegotiable.”

Ignis couldn’t help but dryly say: “Deal implies us receiving something.”

Ardyn laughed, shaking his head softly back and forth. Ardyn’s voice was low, dangerous, from where he loomed over the back of the couch, “Your safety is not enough? Should you prefer I could always feed you and darling Prompto to the daemon lurking outside.”

Prompto shuddered, unwittingly scooting closer toward Ignis, their knees bumping together. One of Ardyn’s hands curled over Prompto’s shoulder, the other coming to rest against the side of Ignis’ neck. Prompto flinched, pressing closer still to Ignis, shoulder lifting in an effort to shake Ardyn off. “Gratitude would not be remiss,” Ardyn pointed out.

“Uh, thanks,” Prompto offered up once he had successfully shrugged Ardyn’s hand off.

Ardyn’s fingertips expectantly tapped against the side of Ignis’ throat. Ignis swallowed dryly before forcing out, “We appreciate your... help.”

Ardyn straightened up, moving out from behind the couch, “With that settled, allow me to show you to your rooms.” Ignis and Prompto got up to their feet, preparing to follow Ardyn. Before they had even left the room, Ardyn was stopping them, his hand latching onto Ignis’ wrist. “We wouldn’t want you wandering off lost, Ignis,” Ardyn pulled Ignis’ hand so it rested on the crook of his elbow.

“As you’ll recall, this was my home for many years,” Ignis pointed out, fingers digging into the fabric of Ardyn’s sleeve, “I hardly require a guide— even without my sight.” Ardyn gave the top of Ignis’ hand one simple, condescending pat.

Prompto crept up on Ignis’ other side, hands fluttering uselessly as he fought the urge to help Ignis— after Ardyn’s display it would just come off as further patronization. Ardyn took them to the elevator, to one of the top floors. “It’s only proper that you have your old bedroom, Ignis,” Ardyn remarked as he twisted the door open. “And, of course, we’ll put Prompto in the adjoining room.”  


When Ignis spoke it was through gritted teeth: “Absolutely not.”

Prompto tilted his head to the side, “What’s in the other room?”

“The childhood bedroom of your liege,” Ardyn replied, “Only fitting that his dear friend enjoy it while he is unable to, don’t you think? Ah, think of it, Prompto, you’ll be the first MT to ever make it into the bed of Insomnian royalty.”

“Prompto will stay with me,” Ignis stated firmly, fingers squeezing into Ardyn’s arm.

“Oh, he will, will he? _With you_?”

“With me,” Ignis repeated.

Ardyn’s eyes were hooded with interest, flicking first from Ignis’— largely unreadable— expression to the low blush starting on Prompto’s cheeks. “Then do indulge me: what is the nature of the relationship between the two of you?”

Prompto’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, like it was weighed down by lead. “Uh, we’re—we are...”

“Together, if you must know,” Ignis said, “As such, sharing a room will suit us fine.”

Ardyn let out a sharp burst of laughter. It was sudden enough to send Prompt reeling backward, a bright flush blooming across his freckled face. Ardyn laughed far longer than he should have, it was enough to set Ignis even further on edge. “Is your relationship a recent development then?” Ardyn pried, chasing tears from the corners of his eyes with how hard he had been laughing, “No doubt Noct wouldn’t have wanted to play second fiddle, hmmm?”

“Yeah,” Prompto mumbled, scratching the back of his neck as he willed himself to sink into the floor,“It’s sorta new.”

“If that’s all,” Ignis prompted, releasing Ardyn’s arm as he slipped through the doorway into his old bedroom. As Prompto moved to enter the room, Ardyn put a hand on his lower back. The contact was enough to make Prompto stumble forward clumsily, nearly tripping on his feet, although Ardyn’s hand withdrew shortly there after.

“I’m sure you two have much to do,” Ardyn noted, “No doubt you’ll want to start planning your escape.... And, should you be successful,” Ardyn’s voice dipped into a low, gritty timber, “Know that I will be very thorough in razing Hammerhead until only scrap metal and charred meat remains.”

“Gotcha,” Prompto squeaked out.

Ardyn started closing the door, before he remembered to say, quite glibly: “Oh, and I do believe you boys overlooked the stage of a relationship where you discuss previous partners... You may yet find it enlightening.”

When they were finally alone, Prompto let out a sigh of relief before he flopped down on the bed. Ignis felt along the footboard, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. They were silent for a moment.

“Prompto,” Ignis finally started, Prompto suddenly sat up, wrapping his arms around Ignis. Prompto’s face nestled in between Ignis’ shoulderblades as he gently shook his head. “I have to say: I—” Ignis’ voice cracked before he coughed and restarted: “I made a mistake before," Ignis exhaled through his nose, breath shaky as he continued, "I... I slept with Ardyn."

“Wait, what?!” Prompto exclaimed, peeling his face away from Ignis’ back.

Ignis frowned deeply, “Clearly I regret it. I was drunk in Altissia and—”

“Wait, so YOU had sex with _Ardyn_?”

“If you want to call it that, though it was hardly that lurid or involved,” Ignis corrected defensively.

Prompto shook his head, nearly hysteric, “No, no way.”

“Prompto, I believe you might be in some state of shock,” Ignis twisted around to face Prompto, unease etched on his face.

“Oh, no, Six... Shit, no, Iggy, I did too.”

“Did what?”

“Fucked Ardyn.”

Ignis blinked his eyes rapidly as he tried to process Prompto’s words. “You... were also intimate with Ardyn.” 

“Just once, in Altissia,” Prompto said, tucking his chin over Ignis’ shoulder. “I assume pretty quick after you did.”

Ignis let out a bitter laugh, “He must have found that terribly entertaining,” Ignis rubbed his temples to fight of a growing headache, “Sleeping with Noct’s retinue right under his nose, on the eve of a Covenant no less.”

“At least he didn’t bang Gladio,” Prompto offered up, pressing a chaste kiss against Ignis’ cheek.

Ignis tilted his head toward Prompto with a wry smile: “That is a rather cold comfort.” Prompto smiled before he pressed a closed-mouth kiss to Ignis’ lips. Ignis returned the kiss, tilting his body as his hand came up to cradle Prompto’s cheek. There was a comfortable familiarity to their intimacy, the easy fit of their mouths together. Prompto almost felt like a child with a security blanket, holding onto it desperately even as it got tattered and caked with dirt, not wanting to let go for fear of losing it to the silver maws of the washing machine. He fought the urge to clutch onto Ignis tighter, to draw him closer. 

But then, Ignis was slowly pulling away, breaking the kiss. “Prompto,” Ignis said, holding up a hand, “It just occurred to me that together we hold intimate knowledge of our enemy, which we could perhaps exploit.”

* * *

"What do we know about him?" 

"For sure? Nearly nothing I am afraid, but certainly he is not without weaknesses."

"You know, back in Altissia, I saw him walking by himself, after you'd been with him."

"Thank you for the remainder of my past transgressions," Although it was said by Ignis with a wry smile.

Prompto leaned closer, "No, no, the point is afterward he seemed, I dunno, _sad_."

Ignis looked surprised for a moment: "Sad?"

"Yeah, at the time I thought maybe he was just a weird, lonely old man..." Prompto's tone dropped to one that was more dismissive. 

"Prompto, you may be exactly right."

"Really, I am?"

"Indeed. And, perhaps Ardyn's loneliness has compounded now that he has no more games to orchestrate for Noct. Certainly he must be growing bored." 

"Okay," Prompto's voice drawled off, "but, that helps us how exactly?"

"Ardyn may yet find some _humor_ in _pulling our strings,_ " Ignis waved a hand, "for a multitude of reasons: boredom, loneliness, to twist the proverbial knife in Noct."

Ignis paused, expression calculated as he finished: "But, if Ardyn wants to keep us close, that gives us the opportunity to pinpoint a weakness we can manipulate. "

* * *

An opportunity to exploit their host came earlier than they were expecting. They were summoned for dinner in one of the grand dining rooms. The feast was so ostentatious and garish that it killed Prompto’s appetite: for how could Ardyn have found so much food when humans were starving all over the world.

“Surely, we did not require a banquet of this magnitude,” Ignis said, taking a seat, when the multitude of smells wafted up to his nose.

Ardyn, seated at the head of the table, leaned his cheek against the palm of his hand, “Ah, but I so rarely have had the opportunity to entertain guests in my new abode.”

Prompto pushed around a chunk of Chickatrice meat on his plate, muttering under his breath: “I wonder why...”

“Do speak up, Prompto,” Ardyn chided. Prompto’s cheeks flushed bright red, accidentally dropping his fork onto his plate with a clatter.

“Uh...” Prompto gaped, clumsily picking his fork up before he skewered a piece of meat on the prongs: “Chicken is good.” He dumbly waved the fork around before all but shoving the chicken into his mouth.

“You are keeping us here for a reason, Ardyn,” Ignis spoke up from where he sat to Ardyn’s right.

“Oh? I am?” Ardyn asked, mouth opening into an ‘o’, overdone and a parody of surprised. “Before you spout some fool plan, Ignis, remember this....” Ardyn smiled meanly, lips curled up and eyes narrowed. He unfolded himself from his chair, taking a few sauntering steps to Ignis’ side. He leaned down, breath warm against Ignis’ cheek, “We both know what happens once you are left to your own machinations,” Ardyn’s finger poked against the healed, pink scar tissue around Ignis’ left eye.

“I care little for your cruelty,” Ignis responded enigmatically, hands neatly folded, one over the other on the table. Ignis didn’t flinch when Ardyn slid his glasses off. He could feel Ardyn’s eyes looking over his face, his damaged eyes.

“Then tell me, Prompto,” Ardyn straightened up, glancing across the table at Prompto as he slipped Ignis’ glasses into the pocket of his coat. Prompto let out a cough, nearly choking on a piece of dry chicken, sputtering inelegantly. “Out with it. What fool plan has Ignis drafted? I do so hope we’re not planning on blinding Prompto as well.”

“Uh—Well—”

“For how little I care for it, your cruelty is quite telling, Ardyn,” Ignis's tone was even and unhurried, as though trying to encourage a stray dog to let him approach. And yes, Ardyn was very much like wounded animal, lashing out when it was cornered. The edges of Ignis' lips slipped into a smile, “You care very much about what I have to say.” And, finally, Ignis had an inclination of _what_ could appeal to Ardyn's twisted mind.

Ardyn let out a bark of laughter, “So confident! Let’s hope you’re right then.”

"You have thrown the world into ruin," Ignis paused before adding, "And, in doing so, nearly everything has happened exactly as you had planned." 

"Indeed it has, now get to it, Ignis, lest I tire of your nonsense." 

"There is only one trivial thing you hadn't planned on," Ignis held up a single finger, moving it back and forth as though scolding. Ardyn's only reaction was an exhale, as though he had grown bored of the display and didn't find it worth his time. Ignis ignored him and carried on: “You are _lonely_.”

Ardyn let out a bark of laughter, cruel and biting. “Revealed as a true fool at last,” Ardyn hummed, his smile was razor sharp, like shards of glass. 

Prompto let out dry cough, his hands pressed against the table as he leaned closer to them, “C’mon, we know—”

“Absolutely nothing,” Ardyn finished with another cruel smile. “You are two mere children stumbling in the dark.” He shot another glance at the scars dotting Ignis’ face,”Which is quite literal for you, Ignis.” 

“You are lonely,” Prompto repeated Ignis’ words from before with a knowing tip of his head, following Ignis' lead: “Aren’t you sick of being alone?”

Ardyn laughed again, lowly, “But, I am not alone, Prompto,” he pointed out with a fluttering gesture toward Ignis and then over to where Prompto sat.

“Ardyn,” Ignis cut in, “We would like to make a trade.” Ignis’ hands adjusted a wrinkle in the tablecloth, “Give us the resources of the Citadel: food stores, seed banks, curatives. And, we will provide you with companionship.”

“I believe I already have that, wouldn’t you agree?”

“No,” Prompto said, leaning back in his chair, “Prisoner and companion are totally not the same thing, man.” Prompto folded his hands behind his head, trying to act casual considering how fast his heart was racing. Gods, he could feel the blood rushing in his ears.

“I suppose I haven’t been accustomed to the ways of men for quite some time,” Ardyn allowed, “Remind me then, dear boy, how are the two different?”

“Well, ya know, one is in chains,” Prompto sputtered, eyes darting off to the side, “Er, or both actually, depending,” Prompto awkwardly coughed into his hand.

Ignis quirked up an eyebrow, mouthing in Prompto’s direction with one of his wry smiles: “Kinky.” Prompto sputtered again, throwing his hands up.

“Now that isn’t a very compelling case at all,” Ardyn said, he tapped his fingers against the table, fingernails clicking, “Should I have desired you trussed up in chains, you would already be in them.”

Ignis reached out a hand, gently closing his fingers over Ardyn’s. Ardyn remained completely still, as though he were made of stone. After waiting a moment, Ignis pulled his hand away, fingertips stroking against the back of Ardyn’s hand.

“Oh, my boy, you’ll certainly require a much better demonstration than that to convince me,” Ardyn’s voice was low, a hint of gravelliness clinging to his words, “Seeing as you are two men of no consequence in this world of night.”

Ignis pushed back his chair to stand, hand knotting in Ardyn’s scarf. Ignis tugged Ardyn close, his other hand finding Ardyn’s jaw before he pressed their lips together. Ardyn was taken back to the last time they’d kissed: when Ignis had been pilant and drunk off fine scotch. After a few moments, Ardyn broke the kiss by taking a purposeful step back, Ignis’ deft fingers catching hard in the fabric of his clothes. Ardyn’s eyes flickered over to Prompto.

Prompto was standing up on the other side of the table, nearly trembling, wringing his hands uselessly. “Well then, Prompto, are you waiting for a hand-written invitation?” Ardyn snidely asked. Prompto hastily rubbed his sweaty palms against the legs of his jeans before he made his way over. When he was close enough, Ardyn’s hand wrapped around Prompto bicep, hauling him against his side.

Prompto let out a surprised, unflattering grunt before Ardyn caught his lips in a kiss. The angle was off, which wasn’t helped by Prompto forgetting how to kiss for a moment— mouth hanging half-open dumbly. By the time Prompto actually remembered, Ardyn was beginning to pull away. Prompto lurched forward, craning his head up to kiss Ardyn properly.

Ignis’ mouth brushed against Ardyn’s ear, voice a whisper as he asked: “Is that enough of a demonstration for you?”

Ardyn’s lips separated from Prompto’s, inhaling deeply before he said: “Not quite, my dear, I’m afraid you’ll both have to do better.” Prompto’s eyebrows twitched into a furrow, shoulders folding in on himself. His lips parted, mouth moving dumbly although no words left. 

Ignis wasn’t nearly as phased. “Is that a challenge?” Ignis’ voice dipped to a low timber, fingertips gilding along Ardyn’s scarf. Ardyn’s lips twitched up into a smile, for he had forgotten— underestimated— how seductive Ignis could be when he bothered to try.

“Should you be amiable it could be interpreted as such.”

Prompto, finally with his barings gathered, tucked himself tightly up against Ardyn’s side and said: “Okay then: Challenge accepted.”

* * *

It wasn’t particularly surprising that Ardyn soon found himself in Ignis’ childhood bedroom. Surrounded with a naked young man on either of his arms; It was a pleasure that made Ardyn positively preen. Not because of how they looked or anything so frivolous, but rather because of _who they were_. Yes, Ardyn did have something of a soft spot for these two particular fools.

“You would not allow me or Prompto to touch you before,” Ignis noted, slipping behind Ardyn, fingering the heavy fabric of his coat, “In Altissia.” Prompto’s hands mapped out the planes of Ardyn’s stomach, eagerly diving under his shirt.

“Oh, did I really?” A biting smile curled up on the edge of Ardyn’s mouth, “Perhaps it was because I weighed your worth and found it wanting. Barely deserving of my attentions at all, I would wager.”

Ignis tapped two fingers against the swell of Ardyn’s trapezius, “Doubtful.” Ignis pressed his lips against Ardyn’s ear to hiss, “You were scared we would see _you_.”

Ardyn moved his arms backward to allow Ignis to pull off his coat. “So confident,” Ardyn noted, “Such a shame we’ll never know if your little guess was correct.”

“I know, Ardyn,” Ignis corrected, folding Ardyn’s coat over his arm, “It is not a guess.”

Prompto rucked Ardyn’s shirt up under his arms, almost surprised to see how well built Ardyn actually was. Not hugely muscled like Gladio, but functionally so. Prompto hauled Ardyn’s shirt up over his head before he sunk down to his knees, lips tracing a line down Ardyn’s stomach. Once Ignis had set down the coat, he moved so his body was a warm line down Ardyn’s back, the pads of his fingers moving to trace along Ardyn's sides. “Mmm,” Ignis hummed, fingers stroking along his obliques, sliding to his abdomen.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Ardyn snidely asked when Prompto’s mouth brushed against the line of his pants.

“Yup,” the ‘p’ popped as Prompto undid the fastenings of Ardyn’s pants, pulling them down low on his thighs. Ardyn’s cock hung heavy between his legs, partially erect. There was an easiness to this too, Prompto realized, when he could just focus on flesh and pleasure without thinking of the potential-time-bomb he was strapping himself to. It was easy and it was dangerous, which made Prompto belatedly think he should probably be scared; but, he couldn't muster the strength to be anything but focused. 

Ignis’ hand slipped down, closing over Ardyn’s cock. Ignis felt the weight of him in his hand, his heft and girth. The warm blood coursing through his veins, and like this Ardyn seemed like _just a man_ once more. Ignis thumbed the slit, causing Ardyn to let out a hiss before Ignis began to stroke him in earnest. Meanwhile, Prompto’s lips were brushing along his inner thigh, nipping the pale flesh there only to suck it into a bruise. Ardyn settled back against Ignis, his cock beginning to fill out against Ignis’ long fingers. Prompto’s head ducked down, tongue flicking out to stroke along Ardyn’s testcile.

“I could grew used to such attention,” Ardyn groaned, pumping his hips forward, cock sliding along Ignis’ sinfully smooth hand. When Ignis’ hand drew back, Ardyn nearly let out a frustrated growl, the noise catching in his throat. Luckily, Ignis' hand was replaced by Prompto's tongue flicking out to stroke against his cockhead. Ardyn let out a low exhale through his nose as his cock was enveloped in the wet heat of his mouth, “Oh, I certainly could.”

Prompto pulled off his cock suddenly, a line of saliva luridly connecting his wet lips to Ardyn’s cock, “But, I thought we weren’t worthy.”

Igns’ lips dipped along the crook of Ardyn’s neck, a smile full of teeth against Ardyn’s skin. Ardyn knotted a hand in Prompto’s hair— who let out a startled yelp— before he hauled Prompto back to his throbbing erection. Igns lifted a hand, gently tracing along Ardyn’s stubbled jaw. “May I?” Ignis softly asked, surprised when Ardyn’s hand closed over his wrist.

Ignis let out a shuddering breath against Ardyn’s neck as Ardyn guided his hand down his face: over the slope of his nose, ball of his cheekbone, back down to his strong chin. Ignis felt the exhale of Ardyn’s warm breath against his fingertips when Ardyn sharply groaned in response to Prompto’s mouth on his cock. Ardyn tipped his head backward, voice a smugly low rumble, “You’re quite welcome.”

* * *

Their deal had been sex in exchange for resources, but Ardyn was certainly dragging his feet on fulfilling his part of the bargain; not that it mattered, for even if they got the supplies, they still had yet to earn their actual freedom. Ardyn always made up some excuse (or outright threat) should one of them try to broach the subject of their departure; which left them quite trapped.

Even though they were like animals in a zoo that Ardyn could come gawk at whenever he pleased, Ardyn was content to leave them alone— most of the time. Still, being cooped up inside the large, secluded walls of the Citadel was about to drive Prompto insane; he’d never realized how much he’d taken freedom for granted until now.... And they’d only been there for little over a week. Prompto had no idea what Ardyn even did to amuse himself (other than prance around the throne room).

“So, we haven’t died yet,” Prompto announced as he plopped down on the couch.“But, Igs, we gotta find a way out,” Prompto’s voice drew to a quiet hush as he crowded next to Ignis’ side on the loveseat. Ignis was reading one of the many—but still too few— braille books that the Citadel housed.

“Any thoughts on how we go about accomplishing such a thing?” 

“Nah, ’course not,” Prompto replied good-naturedly, “That’s why I’m telling you.” 

Ignis let out a soft sigh, although it held no ill-will, as he shook his head, “Very well,” The book closed with a muffled thump, “We could attempt to barter for our actual freedom.”

“‘Kay, but our hand is pretty empty at the moment,” Prompto interjected.

Ignis sighed again, “Ardyn may yet grow bored and send us on our way,” Ignis’ fingertips tapped against the cover of the book. “Although, that is rather unlikely, we may be the most interesting distraction he has had for some time.” 

Prompto hummed in acknowledgment, bouncing his leg up and down with anxious, pent-up energy. Prompto threw his hands up, slouching back into the chair as he let out a frustrated huff. “Before this, I didn’t hate him, but...” Prompto’s words drifted as he stared at a portrait of some old, white dude that hung over the mantle, “Actually, I did hate him.” 

“I hate him as well,” Ignis agreed, “For what he has done to Noct, the oracle, and what he may yet do to us all.”

“Easy with the melodramatics,” Prompto tried to laugh off the growing unease he felt clawing at his chest. 

Ignis smiled, close-lipped and dry, “I pity him as well, for what he has become.” 

Prompto’s voice was exceedingly quiet when he said, “Yeah, me too.” Prompto swallowed dryly, unable to put an exact word to the complex emotions he had about Ardyn. It was almost easier now that they knew who he was, no longer waiting for the shoe to drop... no, now the shoe was laying on the ground, covered in cobwebs and broken feelings. But, at least the shoe wasn’t about to crush the life out of his windpipe, that did provide a certain amount of relief (and if the shoe tried he at least knew it could be coming). 

“We are once again left to wait for an opening,” Ignis said, “With any luck, we can convince our host to allow us to leave— of course, we will have to promise to return in due time.” Ignis tipped his head toward Prompto, voice unbearably serious as he asked: “Will you be able to do it, Prom? This commitment may yet affect us for years to come, I would not want to presume—”

“Of course, Iggy!” Prompto exclaimed. His shoulder nudged Ignis’ as he tacked on, “You’re stuck with me, man.”

“Good. I am glad to hear it.”

* * *

Their next opportunity came a few days later, and not in the way Ignis would have imagined. They had been in the library, Prompto had been messing around with one of the old phonographs and vinyl records in the collection. Clearly, the music wasn’t exactly what Prompto had been expecting: every classical note on every record was filled with pomp and haughtiness.

Prompto gently kicked the side of the table with his foot, “C’mon, this music sucks.” 

“It is a classic,” Ignis pointed out, although he didn’t sound the least bit scandalised, “It is also not intended as art music, it is for waltzing.” 

“Is it?” Prompto asked dumbly, scratching his head as he listened to the soft, grainy notes emitted from the record player. “Do you _dance_ , Iggy?”

That _did_ make Ignis sound scandalised, “Of course. Gladio and Noct do as well.” 

“Shit, really?” Prompto frowned as he stared at the record spinning in its holder. “You wanna show me?”

“Here, Prompto?”

“Eh, why not?” Prompto replied, taking Ignis’ hand and helping him up to his feet, “It’s not like we’re going anywhere.” 

Ignis’ hand took Prompto’s and put it on his shoulder, “In that case, follow my lead.” Ignis’ hand found the small of Prompto’s waist, other hand held up. Prompto slid his hand into Ignis’, letting out a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

The waltz was painfully, simply easy, but Prompto could not do it. He kept stepping on Ignis’ feet, or tugging his hand, or tripping on his own feet. Prompto flushed with shame, trying to pull together his deer-on-ice skidding into some semblance of finesse. “Iggy,” Prompto whined, awkwardly looking down at Ignis’ feet to try and follow along better. 

“You did ask to learn,” Ignis pointed out.

“Ah no, Ignis,” Ardyn spoke to the side. Prompto nearly leapt out of his skin, both he and Ignis visibly startled by Ardyn’s sudden appearance. “Recall that dear Prompto asked to be shown, not to be taught.”

“How long have you been lurking?” Ignis accused, lips pulled into a tight frown.

Ardyn let out a tiny laugh, flicking the brass tone arm of the phonograph— music skipping and squealing as a result. “Long enough,” Ardyn looked them both over, “Prompto seems to have rather poor form indeed.” 

“I have eight left feet,” Prompto hesitantly agreed, still trying to shake his surprise at Ardyn being there; outside of sex, Ardyn had taken little interest in what he and Ignis got up to. 

“If it’s a demonstration you’d like, I’d be willing to oblige,” Ardyn offered, setting his hat down on the arm of the nearby couch. “I haven't had an excuse to _frolic so_ in many a moon,” He gave Prompto’s shoulder one tiny pat, doing little to hide the undercurrent of indulgence to his words.

Prompto flushed red as he scurried to take a seat on the couch. In his haste he knocked Ardyn’s hat off the edge, so he scrambled to catch it before it actually hit the floor. Prompto slouched low in the chair, holding the old hat in his hands as his face positively burned. He had half a mind to put the damn thing over his face so he could pretend he wasn't making such a fool out of himself. He settled for flipping it over and staring in the dark hole in the center; maybe, if he tried hard enough, he'd disappear into it.

Ignis frowned as Ardyn’s hand found his, his other hand guided onto a shoulder. “Whenever you are ready,” Ignis said, voice tight, laced with conflicting emotion. 

They had already started to dance by the time Prompto managed to peel his gaze out of the dark abyss that comprised the inside of the hat. Prompto didn’t know why he was surprised that Ardyn was actually a _good dancer_. Under his baggy, ill-fitting clothing he moved with exceptional grace and poise. The way he guided Ignis nearly gentle and very confident, it caused a ball of heat to curdle in Prompto’s stomach. 

Prompto nodded numbly, mostly to himself; he could see the music was written for a waltz now, with two individuals dancing in time with the music. He got it; although, he’d still argue the music sucked. 

Ignis gently pulled away from Ardyn, slowing shaking his head; and yeah, Prompto felt it too. There was an _intimacy_ to this that wasn’t there when they had sex with Ardyn— sometimes the ghost of such closeness was there, but often it was just bodies going through obligations and games. Prompto looked down at the well-worn hat he was cradling in his hands. Maybe it was moments like these when the shoe could suddenly spring to life and smack into his face. 

“Ardyn,” Prompto’s voice spoke, he almost surprised himself that he managed to find the confidence to do so, there was a soft, earnestness to his tone. His eyes remained down-turned,“You’re—"

“Do look at me if you’re trying to communicate,” Ardyn pointed out, sweeping away from Ignis to place his hand on the brim of his hat. 

Prompto gulped as he looked up, Ardyn’s fingers curling around the hat to pull it out of Prompto’s hands, “It’s just...” Prompto let out a sigh, all but giving up on whatever it was he was trying to say.

For a moment they all remained as they were, Ardyn looming, Ignis stiffly standing to the side, while Prompto sat uselessly and floundered for words. The soft, twisted _affection_ that had been present in the room had almost entirely evaporated: leaving behind only the withered emotions they all clung to.

“Will you ever hold to your end of our bargain?” Ignis asked, breaking the silence.

Ardyn shrugged up one shoulder, spinning the hat in between his fingers, “I can only assume you ask such a thing for a reason, dear boy, so let’s be out with it.” 

“Supplies would mean little if we are unable to leave this place,” Ignis further clarified:“We would return in two months.”

Ardyn clucked his tongue, “Ah, how about in one month? Or, I could just continue to keep you here, couldn’t I? Give you all the supplies you desire with no means to distribute them to the poor, desperate souls outside these walls.”

“What about five weeks?” Prompto offered up hopefully.

“Perhaps,” Ardyn gave a simple nod, “But what exactly is to stop me from reneging again?”

“Surely you have been satisfied enough with our current company,” Ignis said before adding with a low drawl, “For the moment, of course.”

“Of course,” Ardyn agreed, “Fine, then you may leave. Pay your social niceties to the people, give them the few supplies you collected in Insomnia.” Ignis opened his mouth slightly, as though about to protest. Ardyn continued, unabated, “When you return in five weeks time only then may you collect supplies from the stores of the Citadel. Until then, you’ll merely have to make due with what you looted.”

“And how long exactly should we be expecting to stay once we return?”

“Ah, surely a few days at least—five, I’d imagine, but perhaps more, depending on my mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific Warnings: Ignis and Prompto are left with no choice but to sleep with Ardyn if they want to leave the Citadel. Ardyn's language uses Ignis' blindness to demonstrate Ignis' flaws/weaknesses.


	4. ...And every day afterward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks later, Ignis and Prompto find themselves returning to continue playing a dangerous game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same warnings as previous chapters... if you've made it this far, then you know what you're getting into :)

Ignis and Prompt were true to their word, returning to the Citadel five weeks later; unfortunately, less than 24 hours into their return trip, their visit had soured into something rotten and foul. Ignis had tried to distract Ardyn by offering up a game of chess versus Prompto (Ignis’ unwitting pawn in the situation). And, for a while, Ignis was sure his plan had worked, but then...

“Left to myself these long few weeks I have found myself oft wondering: what is the true nature of the relationship between my two reluctant paramours?” For all the flamboyance of his vocabulary, Ardyn’s voice was low, dangerous. Ignis’ lips twitched, something had definitely spoiled Ardyn’s normal, ambivalent apathy (and truly, for Ardyn, apathy was as close to happy as he ever got). Ignis let out a sigh, rubbing his temples to fight off a headache. 

“Uh,” Prompto scratched at the back of his neck, looking at the chessboard (Even with Iggy’s help— cheating— he was getting his ass kicked by Ardyn), “It’s super boring, man.” Ardyn hummed low, so low it sounded more like a growl, he moved his rook vertically to overtake one of Prompto’s—last remaining—pawns. 

“Shit,” Prompto exclaimed, dropping his voice low to whisper against Ignis’ ear, “He got our pawn!” 

“Your pawn,” Ignis corrected. Prompto’s low groan of distress prompted Ignis to tack on some encouragement: “Even so, you are doing fine.” 

“Dude, I suck and you know it.” Prompto scratched his cheek before randomly moving his knight forward. That proved to be disastrous. 

Within a turn Ardyn said: “Checkmate,” tapping his queen against the white tiled square. Prompto groaned, slouching low in his chair. 

“Igs, this was nothing like King’s Knight,” Prompto groused, throwing his hands up exasperatedly, “Not even close,” Ignis reached over, giving his shoulder one patronizing pat. Prompto let out a laugh, running a hand down his face. 

Ardyn watched them for a moment, eyes clouded with interest, voice taking on a vicious edge:“At last, Is this how you act when you’re hiding in your little home in Lestallum? Playing house together with Gladiolus and the young miss Amicitia?” 

Ignis cocked his head to the side, tone purposely kept even: “It is not so different.” 

Ardyn fingers tapped against the wood of the chessboard, “I began wondering about the other Amicitia,” he fluttered his hand, before correcting, “The spare Shield. Ah, what was her name...” 

Ignis sharply said, “Leave her out of this.”  


Ardyn smiled cruelly: “Oh yes, _Iris_ , wasn’t it?”  


“Ardyn—” Prompto started to say as he sat up in his chair, voice a desperate plea. 

“My interest is purely out of concern for the young girl,” Ardyn’s voice lilted up wistfully, “She is training to be a hunter, yes?" Ardyn tsked his tongue, "Youth do make such devastating mistakes.” 

“Your jealousy is misplaced,” Ignis mentioned demurely. Even for the softness of his tone, it sent Ardyn up from his chair, glowering at the implication. Prompto cowered, lurching his chair back, feet of his chair scratching against the ground with a squeal. 

“Don’t presume my intentions, boy,” Ardyn said, lips curled with clear disdain, “Remember, with nary a second thought I could turn your last remaining bastions of humanity into a graveyard— only suitable for daemons that will eat the eyes out of carcasses like those of _dear Iris _.”__

____

Prompto shuddered, eyes wide and glassy like saucers. He mustered up a healthy dose of false bravado, trying to protest:“Ardyn—” 

“Save your begging, Prompto, I care so very little for it,” Ardyn's voice deathly cold before he turned away from the table. He glanced at the crackling fire nursing in the fireplace. Ardyn murmured, almost as though to himself: “Do try not to die on your journey back to your _home sweet home_." He paused, one of the logs in the fire spitting out sparks, "Humans can be so very fragile, don’t you think?” 

Ignis opened his mouth, but then thought better of it. Prompto’s hand snuck out, gently squeezing Ignis’ wrist. Ignis shook his head slightly, frowning. Within a few moments Ardyn was sulking off, leaving to go mope by himself—it reminded Ignis of Noct, which left him feeling ill. 

“Iggy?” Prompto slowly asked, hand sliding so his fingers slipped in between Ignis’. 

Ignis shook his head, “There is nothing we can do,” he gave Prompto’s hand a firm squeeze, “Best to leave it be for now.” 

They went about the rest of their evening as normal: Ignis made them dinner (Ardyn didn’t make any effort to come join them), retired to the library where Prompto continued reading Ignis a terribly dry book about the history of Lucian royalty (once again, Ardyn didn’t come sit with them), then they went up to bed. Ardyn had moved into one of the suites in the West Wing that had been used as a guest room for visiting dignitaries. The location was a compromise as Ignis had vehemently rejected ever having sex or sleeping in a bedroom that used to house the late King Regis. Ignis had also been eager to escape the confines of his old room, littered with now-painful memories of his youth and Noct. Prompto hadn’t cared either way, and with some goading, Ardyn had relented. Unfortunately, that left the duo in the dire predicament of having to seek out Ardyn’s room. 

If it were Noct, Ignis would have knocked on the door and asked: ‘Well Noct, are you ready to speak yet?’ And, Noct would grumble into his pillow, but he would still sit up with mussed hair, ready to speak or happy to sit in silence with Ignis. 

If it were Noct, Prompto would have quietly slid the door open; and, upon noticing Noctis barricaded under mounds of pillows, he would have leapt on top of him. And, Noct would have shoved him off to the ground. Prompto would have groaned and complained, but it would be worth it: Because it would get Noct up out of bed, laughing. 

But Ardyn wasn’t Noct. So, Prompto and Ignis had no real idea about what to do given the circumstance. Ignis took a breath before he sharply knocked on the door of the room, when there was no response Prompto went ahead and pushed it open. Ardyn, however, was nowhere to be found. 

By the time they woke up the next morning Ignis and Prompto realized Ardyn was still nowhere in the Citadel, as though he had vanished into shadow and flame. Their time in the Citadel was uneventful as a result, but left Ignis feeling drained; especially when he noticed the packs of food stuffs, seeds, and curatives that Ardyn had assembled for them. 

When their time was up four days later, they resolved to go back to Lestallum. Before they left Prompto guiltily pointed out: “Should we really take his stuff.”

Ignis shot down the thought with a simple, “The people need these resources, we will try to make it up to him in the future, when he deems to show himself once more.”

* * *

Ignis sunk down on the couch, exhaustion leaching into his body from the long journey they had just undertaken back to Lestallum (They had only just finished delivering the supplies they had accrued while in the Capital city). The couch curved down from where Prompto sat down next to Ignis. 

“Hey, Iggy?” 

“Yes?” Ignis responded, setting his glasses down on the coffee table to rub at the aching scar tissue around his eyes—some days a tinge sunk deep into the damaged tissue that was difficult to shake. 

Prompto let out a short exhale of breath, “What if we... I dunno, stayed at the Citadel?”

Ignis’ fingers paused their minstrations against his flesh, “That is not something I have thought of in particularly great detail.”

“Oh,” Prompto’s voice drawled before he coughed into his hand, “But... Do you think _he’d _be happy?”__

Ignis let out a sharp laugh, “Oh, Prompto,” he shook his head, “I doubt it is even possible for Ardyn to be _happy_.”

“Fine then,” Prompto corrected, utterly undeterred, “Do you think Ardyn would enjoy it?”

“Of course,” Ignis noted, his confidence enough to make Prompto lurch forward in shock, “Unfortunately, the risks outweigh the potential rewards. Ardyn has shown himself to be possessive and temperamental.”

With Ignis’ words, Prompto dropped the subject. It was only later, once they had settled in bed for the night, that Prompto felt compelled to continue their conversation.

“I know he’s terrible,” Prompto mumbled, his head pressed against Ignis’ chest, “But I—I dunno,” he pulled his lower lip into his mouth. 

Ignis pressed a kiss to the top of Prompto’s head, “He is a vile creature, Prompto, which we can never forget.” Ignis let out a sigh that ruffled Prompto’s hair, “But he is also a broken, tragic husk of a man. And perhaps it is that side of him that makes him the most dangerous.”

Prompto nodded his head, gently nudging Ignis’ chin, “I... He’s just so...” Prompto nibbled on his lower lip— unable to chase from his mind how Ardyn was both willing to be savior and slaver; content to provide them with the resources from his home, but equally willing to threaten in order to keep them locked inside a gilded cage. 

“He is complex,” Ignis agreed. After a few moments, Ignis finally admitted, “It will be difficult to keep ourselves from caring during this affair.” Ignis paused for a moment, rubbing a hand down his face before he announced: “We must always be on our guard.” 

Prompto tasted a metallic, iron-y xing as his chapped, bitten lips bled. Prompto let out a cough, rubbing a hand across his mouth as he said: “Iggy, you’re making it sound super easy.” With the taste of blood still clinging to his mouth, Prompto couldn't muster up the courage to tell Ignis that he may have already failed the _no caring_ part.

“Of course it won’t be that simple,” Ignis agreed, “We are only human.” Ignis let out a sigh before he added, “If it is any consolation, I do believe Ardyn is not without his own emotions, which he is starting to fall victim to.” 

“Yeah?” Prompto checked, raising his head up momentarily to watch Ignis solemnly nod. 

Ignis’ lips curved into a smile, “He is much like a puppy playing roughly with its teeth merely because it does not know how else to express itself,” Ignis laughed dryly, “All he knows how to do is _bite_. But, with work, he can be trained to fetch a newspaper.” 

“Stop,” Prompto exclaimed, hopelessly tapping his forehead against Ignis’ chest, “That’s an awful example, dude,” Prompto tried to shake the image of an Ardyn-puppy from his mind: which looked like a hairless, disturbingly naked-mauve version of Pryna. 

“So, you cannot handle the truth, Prompto?” Ignis accused with a wide, pointed grin. 

“Okay, fine, continue.” 

“The trick is training the dog how to play properly,” Ignis noted before wryly adding: “Although I doubt such an old dog as Ardyn would be amiable to learning a new trick.” 

Prompto felt the need to cheekily add: “He might, if you gave him a good enough treat.” 

Ignis’ smile was all blinding, white teeth: “Shameful.” 

* * *

Only a week after they had arrived back in Lestallum, Ignis and Prompto were back on the road to Insomnia. It was earlier than they had promised Ardyn as per their original agreement; which, would have to do as Ardyn had been too busy storming from the library to tell them when to return. As a result, their arrival at the Citadel would be unexpected. And, there was a certain anxiety that existed when one knowingly showed up at someone's house uninvited. Prompto kept wiping his sweaty palm against the leg of his pants, hands slipping slightly on the steering wheel. The drive was _always_ long, but this trip was particularly arduous. Ignis knew he and Prompto would have to seriously speak about relocating to Hammerhead permanently in the near future. As such, it was a relief when they finally arrived at the Citadel. No matter what their reception was, it was certainly better than waiting on the long road. 

Once they were in the foyer, barely in the front door, Ardyn was accosting them. “Ah, this is much earlier than anticipated. What brings you here if not our agreement?” 

“We felt you had been swindled,” Ignis said, shrugging out of his jacket, “We barely saw you, which hardly could be considered upholding our end of the bargain.” 

“Such young gentlemen,” Ardyn’s tone dripped with condescension, a patronizing sting, “Looking to do right by a simple, old man such as me.” 

“Actually...” Prompto started, looking at the marble floor nervously. He rubbed his hands together, before gently nudging Ignis with his shoulder. 

“We have another offer for you, should you be open,” Ignis said, he held up a hand, “And, please let me finish first.” Ardyn craned his head to the side, eyes narrowed as he let out a snort. Ignis nodded once in thanks and acknowledgement before he continued: “You expressed an interest in our home in Lestallum, you are welcome to come with us to see it.” 

“But you don’t have to,” Prompto hastily added, looking up, “We can just stay here.” 

“My schedule has certainly opened up now that the world has fallen to ruin,” Ardyn noted, waving his hand with a flourish, “And it has been rather long since I took to the open roads.” 

“Then that settles it,” Ignis said, voice leaving no room for argument as he fluttered out of the foyer, cane tapping on the floor— most likely, he was heading toward the kitchen. 

Prompto met Ardyn’s eyes, a smile on his face, “Uh, thanks.” He awkwardly gestured with his hand before giving up and shoving it into his pocket. Ardyn gave him a knowing look, one of intimate smugness that was enough to send Prompto from the room, blushing brightly. 

* * *

Their home in Lestallum was painfully simple, located up above Ignis’ restaurant—which hadn’t maintained regular hours ever since they had wandered to Ardyn nearly two months ago. Their apartment had only a few rooms: a small kitchen, dining table and couch in the living room, with two bedrooms. 

“This one is ours,” Prompto announced, pushing open the a door to reveal a rather dull room, he pointed over his shoulder at the other room, “That’s the guest room. Gladio does sometimes stay with us, but Iris moved to her own place across town.” 

“I’m sure properties must open up quite regularly,” Ardyn said, “Once their owners meet an unfortunate fate at the hands of creatures of the night.” 

“Not quite,” Ignis corrected, leaning his cane against the wall, “Property in Lestallum is highly sought after, it is already teeming with refugees from all over thanks to the prolificness of the power plant.” 

Before Ardyn could manage some other retort, there was a knock on the door. The door audibly rattled under the force of the individual's pounding greeting. “Shit,” Prompto’s hands fluttered around Ardyn before he tried to corral him away, “Hide!” 

“Iggy? Prom?” Gladio’s voice called as there was another rattling knock on the door.  


Ignis’ lips pulled into a tense line, before Ardyn said, in a very different voice, with an overly loud whisper: “I didn’t know y’all had company coming.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s just our friend,” Prompto played along, eyebrows furrowed until Ardyn adopted the facade of another man, one with a sickly pallor to his skin who was nearly emaciated. His hair was mousy brown fading out to grey, scruff of a bread on his chin. Ardyn gestured to Prompto then to the door. “Uh, I’m coming, Gladio!”  


Prompto went over to unlock the door, hesitantly opening it so Gladio could come inside. Not-Ardyn let out a cough into his hand as he ambled to sit on the sofa.  


“Hey,” Gladio said in Ardyn’s direction, confusion clearly written across his face.  


“Oh, Gladio, this is...” Ignis’ gestured in Ardyn’s general direction.  


“Malum,” Ardyn introduced himself, holding a hand out expectantly. Gladio’s eyes flicked down to his hand before walking over to shake it with a firm grip. Ardyn smiled, “Your friends were nice enough to help me out. My homestead was attacked, without them I don’t think I would’ve made it,” when Gladio gave him a sympathetic nod Ardyn felt compelled to aid, “They were so kind, saving me and then offering me a place to sleep until I get my bearings back.”  


“Nice to meet you, Malum,” Gladio said, “Good to hear they actually helped out,” he teased with a wink in Prompto’s direction.  


“Hey!” Prompto let out indignantly, pushing Gladio’s arm.  


“Malum,” Ignis said the name evenly, mouth only twitching slightly on the lie, “Only plans to be with us for a few days.” His fingers brushed along the back of the couch as he took a seat next to Ardyn.  


“Of course I’ll stay as long as they’ll have me,” Ardyn agreed, reaching a now-spindly hand over to pat Ignis’ knee, “Such lovely boys.”  


“They are indeed,” Gladio's voice was teasing again, before he went to put a bag of something on the kitchen counter. The familiarity and praise coming from Gladio was nearly enough to make Ardyn’s lip curl up. “Oh, Iggy, I brought you some fresh vegetables, Iris grew some in her garden.” Ardyn settled his hand on Ignis' leg, perhaps a bit higher than was generally considered _decent_. 

“Thank you, Gladio,” Ignis responded, brushing Ardyn’s hand off as he stood back up and walked into the kitchen to find out what exactly Gladio had brought him. “Which were hers?”  


“Lettuce, tomato,” Gladio replied, casually leaning against the counter, “Carrots too, but...”  


Ignis sharply shook his head, fingers tracing over the fresh produce, absently plucking at the head of lettuce, “You know I still do not—”  


“No, I know,” Gladio’s hand clapped against Ignis’ shoulder, “That’s why I didn’t bring you any.”  


Ignis smiled at him sadly, voice achingly sincere when he said, “Thank you, Gladio.” Ardyn’s lip did actually curl up at _that_. His bruised feelings only slightly aided by the thought of how stupid it was that they were so melancholy over vegetables—vegetables of all inane things. As though they wouldn't have bigger things to mope about in the coming days. 

Luckily, Ardyn’s savior was found in Prompto. “So, how’s your lady friend, Gladio?” Prompto asked, leaning over the breakfast bar to gawk at Gladio and Ignis in the tiny space of the kitchen.  


Gladio let out a chortle of laughter, “Still not ready to introduce her to you. You might scare her away.”  


“Not fair!” Prompto squawked as Gladio ruffled his hair, Prompto stumbled back from the counter, his hip bumping into one of the chairs, “I’m amazingly charming, Gladio, ask Iggy.”  


“Not quite the word I would choose,” Ignis pointed out with a smirk directed over his shoulder at Prompto.  


“Iggy!” Prompto moaned, throwing his hands up desperately in the air, then he noticed Ardyn, “Oh, _you_ ," Prompto floundered, clearly having forgotten Ardyn's pseudonym, before he settled with: "You can tell 'em— ”

“Don’t bring him into this,” Gladio said with a wide grin, “Just because you know you’re losing.”

* * *

For all his frustrations, Ardyn did find it quite... _interesting_ to see how Prompto and Ignis lived in the darkened world. Once Gladio had left after dinner, and it was just the three of them, they retired to the bedroom.  


“Your life is quite charming...In an inconsequential, menial sort of way,” Ardyn noted, plucking at the knitted quilt folded at the end of their bed as he walked around the tiny space of the room.  


“Not as sordid as you were expecting?” Ignis remarked dryly as he set his glasses on the nightstand, unbuttoning his shirt with nimble fingers.  


Ardyn hummed, a pleased rumble. “It is boring,” Prompto agreed, sprawling out on the bed on his stomach, “That’s why I like it, man.” He rolled onto his back, holding his thumb and forefinger out in a mime of a gun, “Want adventure? Go hunt some daemons.” He flicked his hand up in a parody of firing at the ceiling, “Bam! Adventure.”  


“It must be nice, to have such a choice,” Ardyn said. “Some, based purely on a cruel predestination from divinity, are not given such an opportunity to enjoy simple pleasures.” Ignis’ fingers gently closed over Ardyn’s sleeve.  


Ignis’ hand held onto the fabric of Ardyn’s clothing, his head tilted downward, “It should go without saying that we understand that blood price more than most.” Ignis tilted his head up, hand releasing Ardyn.  


“Oh yes, of course,” Ardyn’s voice a low, crowning coo, “How thoughtless of me to forget.” After that one barb, Ardyn let the issue slide, content for the moment not to mention anything related to Noct. He watched them undress, going about their simple night time rituals.  


When both Ignis and Prompto were laying on the bed, Prompto felt compelled to ask, “So you wanna...?”  


“I want to watch the two of you together,” Ardyn shrugged his shoulders, “You may even pretend I’m not here, should you wish.”  


“Kinda hard to do,” Prompto pointed out, hand reaching out to try and tug Ardyn down onto the bed.  


Ardyn, however, didn’t budge, which caused Prompto to flop back on the bed with a frustrated huff. “...If that is what you would like,” Ignis drawled, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.  


“Yes,” Ardyn said firmly, “For now I am wholly content to be a voyeur to your domestic bliss. So by all means, amuse me.” 

* * *

And domestic bliss it had been in Lestallum—But, soon enough Ardyn was forced back to the Citadel. Alas, he was growing so weary of the Citadel. The whole situation with the _two fools_ was becoming achingly frustrating—nearly as much as when he had been required to painstakingly string Niflheim's army up like puppets, making their commanders dance at his beck and call. Ardyn clenched his jaw, for certainly the stakes had been higher _then_. 

As it was, the agreed upon meetings were not nearly enough—especially when Ignis and Prompto seemed to have such issues holding onto their ends of a bargain. It had been six weeks and they had yet to pay him a visit. It was made worse by Ardyn knowing they were close by, staying in Hammerhead. It was almost as though they were aware of the tabs he was keeping on them and taunting him as a result. Or, more likely, they were doing _something important_. Ardyn didn't care either way. His body itched with the craving to tether them on a shorter leash. So, Ardyn planned a trip to Hammerhead— he would not let them avoid their end of their bargain simply because they had allowed him into their home.

Of course, he couldn’t go with his own face and voice, so he simply borrowed someone else’s. Which was how he found himself at a counter at Takka’s diner feasting on seafood prepared by none other than Ignis Scientia. Of course, Ignis’ restaurant was based in Lestallum originally, but while he was staying at Hammerhead (something he did with growing frequency) he was cooking for the hunters. “Is it to your liking?” Ignis checked, as he was hustling about the kitchen space, busily preparing another dish.  


“It’s simply delicious,” Ardyn wondered if he perhaps laid the praise on a bit too think. Dave may not have been quite so enamored with Ignis’ cooking. “Truly a divine risotto.”  


“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Ignis noted, flicking a tiny smile in his direction as his hands deftly opened a Cleign mollusk, his slender knife slipping between the shells, “It’s one of my favorites.”  


“Hey, Iggy, Gladio and I finished up early,” Prompto exclaimed as he came over, sliding behind the counter to press a kiss against Ignis’ cheek, “anything I can help with?”  


“The pans could use washing,” Ignis replied, turning his head so that his lips brushed against Prompto’s. Ardyn knew he had to be careful with how much he stared, but it was hard not to watch them kiss.  


“Sorry ’bout distracting you,” Prompto whispered, his voice however sounding anything but sorry, his upturned lips moving close to Ignis’ ear. Ardyn had to pretend like he couldn’t hear the soft whispers shared between them. Prompto bounded back then, smiling widely at Ignis before heading over to the sink to scrub at a pan.  


Ardyn heard heavy footsteps behind him, he glanced over his shoulder to see Gladio entering the diner. “Whatcha making, Iggy?” Gladio asked, sitting heavily on a stool.  


“Fisherman’s Favorite Risotto,” Ignis replied, when the word ‘fisherman’ left his lip Ardyn detected a slight cringe from Gladio. Ah, so not so happy after all, still missing their dearly departed King. That certainly warmed Ardyn’s heart.  


Gladio played it off, however, just saying, “More like _your_ favorite risotto.”  


“Indeed it is, want me to fix you a plate?”  


“Course, can’t get enough of your cooking, Iggy,” Gladio remarked, eyes flicking over to where Prompto was elbow deep in soap suds, scrubbing away. Gladio let out a tiny laugh, turning it into a cough when Prompto shot him a look.  


Ardyn enjoyed watching Ignis work, it was a fascinating process. How Ignis felt his way around the work space, fingers running over braille tags, everything set in its proper place and methodically organized. Just as watching Prompto beat a pan to death with enough soap to choke a grown man, wrestling with sods, was equally amusing—For different reasons of course, Ardyn liked Ignis’ finesse as much as he enjoyed Prompto’s lack of it.  


“How have you been doin’, Dave?” Gladio asked.  


Ardyn shrugged exactly how he imagined this brute of a man would, “Uh, alright, while back some people went missing at the Citadel in Insomnia, I’m thinking about going looking for them.”  


Prompto’s head shot up, eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Why’d they head out there?” Prompto asked from where he was still scrubbing in the sink.  


“Yes, I thought Insomnia was entirely abandoned,” Ignis noted, although his attention was fixed on cooking the Saxham rice on the stove.  


“Went to hunt a large daemon,” Ardyn lied, hoping they would quit questioning him and just take the bait. It wouldn’t be the same if he grabbed them now (surely that would terminate the agreement he had come to with Ignis and Prompto) and whisked them off to the citadel, it would be better if they came of their own accord… even if he was required to do some helpful nudging.  


“I can go for you,” Gladio offered up, “Look around the crown city, see what I can dig up.” Ardyn’s eye twitched, oh, but it wouldn’t do to have Gladio poking around the Capital City.  


“But Iris,” Prompto pointed out hastily, wringing his hands out against a towel, “You did promise.”  


Gladio frowned, rubbing the back of his neck, “Shit, you’re right.” Gladio shot an apologetic look at Dave, explaining with one of his million-dollar smiles: “My little sister wants me back in Lestallum.”  


“Prompto and I could go investigate,” Ignis finally offered up, “It would hardly be much trouble.”  


Gladio let out a low grunt, which had Prompto adding: “We would be very, _extremely_ careful.”  


“Thanks, that’d be a huge help,” Ardyn said, standing up, “You know, I best get going. Thanks for the meal, Ignis,” Ignis shot him a smile—one of unadulterated pride, like he tended to get when someone complimented his cooking.  


“You’re quite welcome,” Ignis replied as Ardyn sauntered out the door, barely remembering to adopt a more clunky walk. It wouldn’t do to give himself away with his gait, not when his ruse had worked so far. 

* * *

It only took 48 hours before Ignis and Prompto were venturing out toward the Citadel once more—this time in search of a ‘large daemon’...although they were also planning to be ‘searching’ for five days so they could fulfill their other obligation; unfortunately, their venture into daemon territory wasn’t off to a great start.  


“IGGY!” Prompto shouted as he sloppily rolled out of the way of a large, red fist. The red giant’s hand crushed into the earth, crumpling the concrete like paper. This was only their third return trip to the Citadel and they were beginning to face increasingly challenging obstacles each time they ventured to-and-fro from the Gods-forsaken place.  


“To me, Prompto,” Ignis instructed, feeling the movement of the air around the sword (aided by the sound of the giant’s clambering steps), he pivoted to the side before flipping backward out of the way.  


“I’m tryin’,” Prompto called back, aiming a shot at the giant’s head before a goblin leapt onto his shoulder. “Yuck!” Prompto groused, shaking the goblin off his arm. He shuddered, looking at it’s squirmy, gross body before shooting it in its little face. Unfortunately, his distraction with the goblin gave the red giant enough time to try and bring its fiery sword down right on top of Prompto.  


Prompto hollered, hands coming to cover his head. He waited a beat, when no impact came he looked up to see the giant’s arm, side, and leg frozen in a coat of thick ice. “Go for it, you got his right side frozen,” Prompto called, watching the giant’s not-frozen appendages thrashing out.  


Ignis leapt up, skewering the giant in the chest with his enchanted lance. Ignis kicked off the creature, dragging his lance downward to reveal its gooey innards—crystalline ice forming around the gaping wound. Ignis landed on his feet, brushing a stray hair off of his forehead as the giant disintegrated into goop.  


“Ugh,” Prompto moaned, trying to scrap clumpy dirt (from the goblin’s hands, he belatedly realized) off his arm, “You totally missed it, Iggy, but a goblin jumped on me.”  


“Yet you lived to complain about it,” Ignis replied, “You’ll note I was busy killing the giant.”  


“Still missed it, man.” They walked in silence for a moment, nearly at the Citadel.  


“Odd that daemons have moved so close to the Citadel. I wonder—” Before Ignis could finish, Prompto’s hand was wrenching him to the side.  


“Watch out!” Prompto cried, barreling into Ignis so hard that it sent them both spinning onto the ground. It was fortunate however, because Ignis could feel the heat from whatever had attacked them landing nearby.  


“Red giants?” Ignis asked, springing up from the ground to land on his feet with daggers drawn. Prompto stumbled up after him, pistol in hand.  


“Three of ‘em,” Prompto noted, as soon as the red giant’s hand came down, he took a shot. Even though the bullet hit it square in the chest, it continued rumbling forward.  


“Three?!” Ignis' eyebrows rose up toward his hairline before he threw one of his daggers toward one set of the lumbering footsteps closing in on them. “Here?”  


A well placed sword strike from the giant had Prompto reeling backward, falling on his ass as he wrenched the trigger back. But the red giant didn’t relent and the force of the second strike was enough to knock Ignis off his feet; he skidded down on his knees, holding his daggers up in an effort to deflect some of the blow.  


Ignis let out an audible gasp when he felt a chill gust of wind, Prompto yelling out in shock as the red giants erupted into statues of pure ice. Ignis and Prompto just sat there, clothes singed from fire and bodies bruised, as the now-icicle-giants crumbled into fine shards.  


Prompto gaped, open mouth wobbling: “Wha—?”  


“Did they just... freeze?” Ignis slowly asked.  


“I admit, my skills with the elemental arts are somewhat limited compared to dear Noct,” an all too familiar voice noted off to the side, “I’m afraid that magic tutelage was wasted on me.”  


Prompto’s voice rose in exasperated shock: “Ardyn?”  


“In the flesh,” Ardyn said with a gesture toward his body, “Surprised to see me even though you are on my proverbial front porch.” He walked toward them, extending a hand down toward Prompto. Prompto hesitated before he took Ardyn’s hand, allowing himself to be hauled up to his feet. “A hand, Ignis?” Ardyn asked, free hand reaching down to take Ignis’ offered one. Ignis got up to his feet, dusting off the soot he could feel clinging to his clothes and skin.  


“The daemons are growing bolder,” Ignis remarked, flicking a piece of ashy, singed cloth off his shirt sleeve. “Losing their fear of you.”  


Ardyn laughed, “Mmm, hardly, my dear. Perhaps it is the presence of two delightful morsels such as you that has riled them up so.” Ardyn’s hand found the small of Ignis’ back, other hand coming to rest on the nap of Prompto’s neck as he guided them toward the Citadel.  


Once they arrived, Ardyn took them to one of the sitting rooms, bundling them on a sofa before he left. When Ardyn returned it was with an object in hand.  


“The _Mystic_ ,” Ardyn spoke the name with such venom, and such hate that it rattled Prompto’s core, “Did so enjoy trinkets he thought would harm scourged creatures.” He set down an old, wooden box with an audible thump. “Especially toward the end of his life, one could say that he was obsessed.” Ardyn lifted the top of the box with a flourish to reveal its contents: Inside there was a necklace and bangle made from brilliant, blue metal.  


“May I?” Ignis asked, hand reaching forward.  


Ardyn shrugged up one shoulder, feigning apathy, “Do as you wish. I have little use for such novelties.” The pads of Ignis’ fingers stroked over the surfaces, he could feel the indentions of the ancient runes inscribed. More importantly, he could feel the magic humming off of the jewelry's surface.  


“It’s... Are they runes?” Prompto asked, craning over to look inside the box. The blue velvet lining the box reflected the light of the carefully preserved items inside.  


“Indeed they are,” Ardyn said, his lip pulled up in a disgusted snarl: “Trivial enchanted things.” He shook his head, shrugging languidly, “They were created to repel daemons, one can only hope they actually serve their purpose; otherwise the Mystic adds another failure to his inconsequential, mortal life.”  


“They are exceptionally well crafted,” Ignis whispered, gently touching the singing metal. It reminded him, achingly, of their campsites. How something like this existed and was never replicated astounded him.  


“Hmm,” Ardyn hummed, casually waving his hand with a fluttering of his fingers, “Then it’s settled, they are yours.”  


“What?” Prompto exclaimed, almost jumping up from the couch, “We can’t—”  


Ardyn let out a snort, “I have no use for them. Donate them to the _good people_ if you wish.” He tapped a finger against his chin, head tilting to the side as he drawled: “Although, it would certainly benefit me if I wasn’t forced to your aid every time you journeyed here.”  


“I—” Ignis’ voice faltered for a moment, clearly taken aback before he settled on: “It is appreciated.”  


Ardyn scoffed, flicking his wrist dismissively, “Very well, I care little regardless.” his lip curled up again as though he’d taken a large bit of an overripe fruit, "All I ask is you do not wear them in my presence,  


“That’s easy enough,” Prompto agreed, gently putting the lid back over the box. Pompto glanced over, looking to see Ignis’ reaction to the sudden gift. Ignis mouth was pulled in a line, but his posture was relaxed; and Prompto would bet under Ignis’ glasses his eyes were crinkled up wistfully.  


“With that settled,” Ardyn’s voice overly conversational before it dipped low, “There are other matters I wish to attend to.... Of the more carnal variety.” Although his tone held little of his true emotions, rather it held only carefully constructed seduction. In truth, Ardyn was almost positively giddy at their return to him (also arrogantly pleased that they would now have safe passage to him).  


Ardyn looked over them both: enjoying the muscular swell of Prompto’s arms, the definition of his deltoids and biceps, the firmly toned muscles of Ignis’ back and trapezius only just visible through the tight fabric of his shirt. Ardyn tried to tamp down his growing arousal as he swooped out of the room. He was quite pleased when they followed him up to the bedroom.  


Prompto tugged off his shirt, showing off his well-defined abdomen. Ah, right to business then, which certainly suited Ardyn just fine. Ignis walked over to the end of the bed, fingers plucking open the buttons on the top of his grey t-shirt. Prompto plopped down on the bed carelessly with a thump, unzipping his pants so they hung low on his hips, but making little move to undress further.  


When Ignis sat on the edge of the bed he directed his attention toward where Ardyn was leering nearby, saying: “You gave yourself away.”  


“Whatever do you mean?” Ardyn asked with faked surprise as he sat down in between them, Prompto scooting over to make room.  


Prompto chortled with laughter, propping his feet up on the nightstand, “It was you, right? _Dave_?” Ardyn blinked once, a perfect picture of innocence as he tipped his head to the side. “C’mon, we know.”  


Ardyn let out a resigned sigh, “Alright then, gentlemen, what flaw was there in my performance?”  


“Dave rarely eats my cooking,” Ignis responded, hands folded in his lap,“But, we could not be completely confident until you confirmed it for us.”  


“Just a hunch,” Prompto agreed.  


“Ah,” Ardyn’s voice dripped with diastase, tone curdled and sour: “Your astuteness is so very charming.”  


“Oh, don’t be mad,” Prompto teased, leaning over on the bed to wrap his arms around Ardyn’s neck. Ardyn let out a disgruntled noise, Prompto’s feigned affections doing little to sooth his rumbled feelings.  


Ignis pressed close on Ardyn’s other side, his fingertips gently tracing circles against Ardyn’s thigh. “Quite bold of you,” Ignis noted, hand stroking Ardyn’s upper thigh, “Storming into a human outpost.”  


“Only bold for my own benefit, I assure you,” Ardyn noted, “I desired your bodies, and now here they are.”  


“Of course,” Ignis agreed, shrugging his shirt up over his shoulders, “Since it’s merely our bodies you desire, would you mind if I prepared?”  


“By all means,” Ardyn gestured loosely in the direction of the bathroom out of habit, “Freshen up.”  


Ignis gracefully slid off the bed, shooting a look over his shoulder in Ardyn’s direction, voice enigmatic as he said: “Wonderful.” Ardyn pried Prompto’s arms off, giving him a little push after Ignis. Prompto rolled his eyes, shrugging his shoulders before he hurried to catch up to Ignis anyway, awkwardly shimmying out of his pants when they started to roll off his narrow hips.  


Ardyn undressed, distressed to notice his hands were shaking. He despised base human emotions, but then, here he was. He soothed his bruised ego by reminding himself that this was just sex, nothing more. Of course, it was much harder to keep that straight when Ignis and Prompto came back into the room. They both had such handsome bodies on a purely aesthetic level— especially when they were bared, vulnerable. It was something that always made Ardyn’s blood pump a little quicker in his ancient veins (and, really, it went past physical attraction, Ardyn had seen many a pretty body in his years).  


Ardyn laid back on the bed, hands folded over his stomach, unabashed at his nudity. He glanced over to where Ignis was placing his glasses on the nightstand before Prompto tugged him onto the bed. Ignis’ hand curled against Prompto’s neck, lips slotting against the other man’s. Prompto let out a sharp moan, tipping backward on the bed as Ignis’ leg slipped between his thighs. Prompto’s hand crept down, fingers digging into the firm muscle of Ignis’ ass to pull him closer.  


Ardyn, normally intent to watch them, insistently cleared his throat. “Perhaps it slipped your minds that I am right here.”  


“Needy?” Ignis teased, sliding off of Prompto, his hands tracing up Ardyn’s calves. Prompto popped up, crawling up to lay against Ardyn’s side. Prompto’s mouth traced against the line of his jaw. Ardyn propped himself up, fingers catching on Ignis’ hip to pull him closer.  


“Impatient,” Ardyn corrected as Ignis straddled his hips.  


Ignis pushed his hips down so he could feel Ardyn’s erection pressing between his legs. “Ah, yes, I can feel that,” Ignis said glibly. Prompto let out a tiny laugh against the hollow of Ardyn’s throat.  
Ignis reached a hand down, gently gripping Ardyn’s cock to guide it toward his ass—Ardyn could feel the sticky lube smeared around his entrance. Ignis pressed his hips down, other hand resting on the Ardyn’s stomach. Ignis let out a sharp groan as he was breached. An inhale caught in Ardyn’s throat as Ignis sunk all the way down on his cock.  


Ignis slowly started moving his hips, gently undulating. Ardyn’s fingers were digging into Ignis’ hip, fighting the urge to jerk his cock up harder.  


Ardyn was momentarily distracted by Prompto inisentently nipping at his jaw, hands stroking along Ardyn’s chest. Ardyn let out a grunt when Prompto tweaked his nipple. “Cheeky boy,” Ardyn noted, using his free hand to wrestle Prompto up to his knees. 

Prompto laughed before Ardyn was guiding him to straddle his neck, facing Ignis. Prompto let out a startled sound when Ardyn tugged him lower. “Oh, shit,” Prompto babbled as the flat of Ardyn’s tongue licked across his perineum, “Oh—!”  


Prompto’s back arched, chest leaning forward, his hands grabbed onto Ignis’ elbows to keep his balance. Ignis put a hand on Prompto’s waist, hips dipping down as Ardyn’s cock dragged inside him. Prompto nearly squeaked when Ardyn’s tongue flicked out against the rim of his ass.  


“Can you breathe?” Prompto asked even as he shoved his hips lower, fully intent to sit on Ardyn’s face regardless. Ardyn canted his hips up sharply, prompting Ignis to let out a stilted groan. “‘Kay, that’s a yes?” Prompto let out another squeak when Ardyn’s tongue slid inside him.  


Prompto’s forehead tipped forward, landing on Ignis’ shoulder when Ignis’ hand closed around his cock. “Oh, shit!” Ardyn’s tongue licking him and inside him felt so sinfully good. “Gods!”  


Ignis pumped Prompto’s cock in time with Ardyn’s thrusts inside him. Ignis’ pace faltered slightly as he let out a strained, breathy, “Ardyn—” Ardyn pumped his hips up, he was so close. Prompto let out another little noise, and then Ignis was gasping, “Majesty—!”  


Ardyn nearly whited out, by the time he had fully come back to himself Prompto was sitting on his chest, gasping, with Ignis pressed against his side. Ignis ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, pushing it back. Prompto gracelessly slide off of Ardyn, sprawling out like a large star on the bed, boneless. Ignis pushed a small kiss to the corner of Ardyn’s mouth. Ardyn stared up at the brocade canopy of the bed, blinking. After a few moments, Prompto rolled back toward them, snuggling against Ardyn’s chest.  


Ardyn laid there in the dark, Prompto sprawled out half on top of him, Ignis curled up against his side. For all the warmth surrounding him, a deathly coldness was churning deep in his soul—iciness that no amount of body heat could ever hope to break. Ardyn’s fingers carded up through the small hairs at the base of Prompto’s neck. Prompto let out a grunt, shoving his head against Ardyn’s clavicle, sleepy fingers tightening their grip on his shoulder.  


“Are you alright?” Ignis voice was soft, tired. His fingertips traced along Ardyn’s cheek. Ardyn only hummed low in his throat, it sounded guttural, overly raw.  


“I fear I’ve grown weary of your games,” Ardyn noted, absentmindedly playing with Prompto’s hair.  


Ignis let out a dry scoff, “Games you started.” Ignis was silent then, only his fingers stroking underneath Ardyn’s eye. Ignis’ throat worked slowly, adam’s apple bobbing, “I am not quite as capable of a player as I first thought.”  


Ardyn laughed, chest rumbling, “Oh, now don’t tell me you’ve started to develop feelings for me, dear Ignis.”  


Ignis’ lips tugged into a frown, mouth parting. “It is... complicated,” Ignis admitted with a low sigh, shaking his head. Ignis settled back down, closing his eyes, fully intent on going to sleep. Ardyn leaned down, pressing an awfully tender kiss over his left eyelid.  


Ignis’ eyes blinked open in surprise, eyelashes brushing against Ardyn’s chin as the Immortal withdrew. Prompto’s hand snuck out, bapping against Ardyn’s face, “Go ‘o sleep,” he sleepily mumbled, a tiny line of drool smudged on his chin.  


“Ardyn,” Ignis began to say before Ardyn shushed him.  


“Didn’t you hear?” Ardyn teased, voice canting up playfully, “Prompto requires absolute silence, best not to bother him for now, hmmm?”  


Prompto smacked his lips together, drowsily agreeing, “Yup.” Prompto’s hand moving to pat Ignis’ cheek before his hand fell to limply rest against Ignis’ shoulder.  


“I am not finished,” Ignis warned Ardyn before he settled back down.  


Ardyn’s voice dipped low, “Oh, of course not.” And, regardless of all the lies and insincerities that had stained their relationship, for the first time in over a millennium Ardyn felt as though he was almost at peace. Ardyn smiled bittersweetly to himself, for who would have thought such a feeling would come from men of absolutely no consequence in the affairs of Gods and Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last full-length chapter :'( however, if you want some more closure I'll still be posting a final epilogue.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ardyn, Ignis, and Prompto navigate their _complex_ relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks, _the epilogue_. Sorry it took me forever to post this one, I had to edit and life got in the way. ^_^' 
> 
> If you wanna drop me a comment at the end to let me know what you liked, what could be improved, stuff you wished would have happened, any random fact you read that I might find cool, etc.

Ardyn didn’t indulge in longings for base emotions such as _love_. Certainly he did not believe in happily-ever-afters, hadn’t for a millennium at least. Even with his preconceptions gnawing at his mind, it was difficult to resist the siren song of two lithe, warm bodies. He had grown to crave their ravishing attention. It all left him feeling depressingly vulnerable. And mortal. 

Prompto and Ignis were largely free to come and go as they pleased now, wandering in and out of the Citadel. Just as Ardyn (under some silly guise or another) made it a habit to stop by their rooms at Hammerhead. even with the increased frequency of their visits, Prompto and Ignis still found it difficult to show up in The Citadel in a timely manner much to Ardyn's chagrin.

“I gathered more medical supplies for you,” Ardyn noted, feeling particularly due to Ignis and Prompto having been stowed away in Lestallum for the previous two weeks, “If you feel that the good people deserve them.” Prompto seemed almost uninterested where he was setting the table (the small one, in the kitchen) only letting out a happy grunt in acknowledgment. Meanwhile, Ignis was ambling about the kitchen, conconting some thing or another. 

Ignis wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, “Good, Hammerhead is running low.”

Ardyn hummed lowly, “Hammerhead is to be the intended destination? What of the farms near Cape Caem’s shore? Weren’t you griping about how they weren’t going to last much longer nary a fortnight ago?”

“Yes, well,” Ignis frowned deeply, fingers feeling over the braille tags on the spice rack, “Every human outpost is in dire straits,” he plucked the cinnamon off the shelf. 

“Ah,” Ardyn tapped a finger against his chin, “And here I was thinking you were prioritizing your friends, Ignis.” 

“You care where we delegate resources?” Ignis challenged, his lips spreading into a smile that showed his white teeth. Ardyn shrugged up a shoulder, merely letting out a soft exhale. “I thought not,” Ignis noted, moving a yam onto his cutting board. 

Prompto sidled up next to Ardyn, leaning his head against his shoulder, “Thanks,” he craned his head up and planted a kiss against Ardyn’s cheek. 

“Just fulfilling my part,” Ardyn remarked, moving an arm around Prompto’s shoulders, “Doing the simple things to aid the life of the everymen.” 

Ignis let out a derisive snort, still smiling, “Don’t make me laugh while I’m cooking,” Ignis chided, although his voice didn’t hold any venom. He slid the cubed yam pieces to the side. 

“You wound me, my darling.” 

Prompto leaned up, nipping at Ardyn’s earlobe before he offered: “Want me to kiss it better?” 

Yes, and the attentions of these two strong, magnificent men were enough, for the moment, to hold Ardyn’s interest. The daemons curdling in his chest were held at bay, no longer chomping at the bit; sated not by bloodlust but by mere lust (and love, although Ardyn dismissed the ridiculous notion without a second thought). So, for now, Ardyn was content to bask in domestic drivel in a world he had ruined. It seemed wholly fitting, somehow.

* * *

Ignis laid on his back, Prompto balanced between his spread thighs. Prompto’s head dipped down, forehead pressing against Ignis’ shoulder. Ignis smiled, hand raising to curl around Prompto’s cheek. His thumb stroked circles against Prompto’s flushed skin. Prompto’s hips pressed down flush to Ignis.

Prompto let out a stilted groan, hand blindly reaching out toward where Ardyn sat nearby on the edge of the bed. Prompto barely managed to stutter out: “Ardyn—” His fingers grasping the fabric of Ardyn’s sleeve. 

Ignis’ fingers stroked along Prompto’s hairline, pushing his sweat-damp hair back. Ignis canted his hips upward, fingers of his other hand digging into Prompto’s shoudlerblade. “Gods, Iggy,” Prompto said, hips jerking downward. Prompto shakily exhaled, breath warm puffs against Ignis’ skin, as Ignis’ ass clenched around his cock.

Ardyn watched them, eyes hooded with interest and hazy with lust. Ignis’ lips parted as he let out a low groan at the velvet slide of Prompto’s cock. One of Prompto’s arms was braced by Ignis’ shoulder, but his arm felt weak and like jelly—threatening to fail— as he tugged insistently on Ardyn’s coat with his other hand. 

Ardyn let out a low hum, finally obliging Prompto and sliding out of his jacket, fabric pooling behind him on the bed. “C’mon, Ardyn, please,” Prompto said, voice nearly a desperate wheeze as Ardyn ever-so slowly slid out of his pants. Ardyn hissed through his teeth as his flushed erection was exposed to the cold air of the room. 

Ignis tugged on Prompto’s shoulder, nails biting into his skin. “Prompto, please do continue to move,” Ignis commanded, though his voice was breathless and his chest was heaving. 

“Ardyn’s distracting me,” Prompto whined before Ignis’ hand slid to cup his ass, giving a sharp tug. Prompto let out an undignified yelp as his hips were roughly pushed down, putting him flush to Ignis. Ignis’ hips snapped up to meet his thrust. 

“I’m hardly to blame, dear boy,” Ardyn noted, leaisurely taking his time as he sidled up behind Prompto, on his knees. He enjoyed hearing the wet slide of flesh-on-flesh, the sticky-sweet smell of sweat. It sent the low, hedonistic flare of arosal simmering in his gut to a boil. 

“Seriously, man, just do it,” Prompto babbled, words spilling from his mouth so quick they were almost not understandable. When Ardyn’s fingers latched onto Prompto’s hip, the gunman let out a pathetic little whine. 

“You’ve come undone so soon,” Ardyn noted even as he moved close to Prompto, positioning his cock at his entrance. 

“Yeah, whatever, just _please_.”

“Well, only because you asked so nicely...” Ardyn’s voice an indulgent lilt as he slowly pushed inside Prompto. Prompto let out another stilted curse as he was penetrated, hips jerking his cock sharply inside Ignis. Ignis’ back arched, fingers digging rivets into Prompto’s side. There was something special about this, when Ardyn got to use one of their bodies— like a puppet— to inflict his will on the other. 

Ardyn’s hand slid under Ignis’ knee, hiking his leg up higher. Ignis’ brows furrowed, lips open with slight surprise, although his leg moved easily—past what would be comfortable for a normal person, Ardyn did so enjoy how flexible he was. Prompto gave a useless grunt, having lost the ability to communicate rationally for the moment. 

Ardyn’s hips did a hard thrust, his cock sliding deep into Prompto. And, it was a chain reaction: Prompto making a whole assortment of noises as his cock pressed hard into Ignis. Ignis’ hips rose to meet his thrusts in encouragement as he let out a stilted moan. 

Prompto, wobbling slightly with only his one arm braced, fumbled to reach downward with his free hand. Prompto’s fingers closed around Ignis’ cock, giving him a long stroke in time with Ardyn and his movements. 

“Shit, Shit,” Prompto finally managed to create the sound of a real word as his eyes screwed shut. Ardyn too felt embrassingly close— too worked up by seeing their bodies pressed together, the supple slide of their flesh. 

Somehow, one of Ignis’ hands managed to find Ardyn’s that was latched onto Prompto’s hip. Ignis’ hand grasped onto his: blunt, straight nails biting into the back of his hand. “Ardyn, if you could—” Before Ignis could compain, Ardyn snapped his hips forward, quickening his pace. 

Ignis groaned his approval. And, like this, tangled up together, it was very hard for Ardyn not to think of them as _his_ — and really, they were fooling themselves if they thought any differently. Ardyn snapped his hips fasted, nearly erratic as his pace faltered. All too quick, Ardyn’s orgasm was upon him— blinding, electric pleasure. 

When he finally came down, breathless and sated, Prompto and Ignis were both panting together. It was obvious from the bonelessness of their forms that they too had found release. Ardyn waited a moment, smugly enjoying how he had infiltrated their relationship so— twisted them both into being _his_ ; although surely they would think they had changed him, but it was no matter, they were all well aware of who had the true power.

Ardyn slowly pulled his spent cock from Prompto, sinking to lay down on the bed. He stared up at the gaudy star-speckled pattern of the canopy top. Prompto let out a grunt, arm giving out as he fell on top of Ignis. Ignis let out a low groan as he gently moved Prompto off. 

The two of them curled up together, Ignis a warm line along Prompto’s back as he held him close. Prompto sighed, low and content, as he blinked his heavy, tired eyes. Ardyn studied them as he laid down on his side facing them. No matter how _this— the world—_ ended, Ardyn could at the very least die happily sated. It was more of a gift than he was ever expecting to receive.

As such, he felt almost buoyant. “If your King should succeed,” Ardyn’s voice was a low, warm drawl. Ignis stiffened, no doubt biting his tongue for want to correct that Noct _would_ succeed. “Not even in the afterlife will you be able to escape me.”

“So?” Prompto’s voice heavy with exhaustion, which was particuarily comedic with the cheekiness of his words. Ardyn let out a short, rumbling laugh, shaking his head wistfully. 

Ignis, perhaps also feeling sappy in the afterglow, said: “I do not recall signing my soul away to you for eternity; with that in mind, do save me a final dance.” 

Ardyn tipped his head forward, gazing at them as he hummed in acknowledgment, “It is possible I may disappear into a void of nothingness,” Prompto’s hand closed over Ardyn’s before the immortal continued, “Or perhaps, should you both persih first, you may be waiting for many a year yet before I find a way to meet death.” 

Ignis smiled, showing his teeth, “No matter.” Ardyn had half a mind to laugh again, for these boys had no idea how _long_ thousands of years could be. Still, their determination warmed Ardyn’s cold, black heart.

“What were you like?” Prompto interjected, giving Ardyn’s hand a squeeze, “Before.”

“I was dreadfully ignorant,” Ardyn replied, “And naive to the point of stupidity; not entirely unlike you.” Prompto just gave his hand another warm squeeze. Ardyn sighed: “Arrogant as well," Ignis let out a snort of concealed mirth, for _that _had not changed. Ardyn's voice rose wistfully, "I was a young fool who paid for my mistakes many a lifetime over.”__

____

Ignis' head cocked to the side: “In death, do you think you will return to the man you once were?” 

____

“I do so hope not,” Ardyn’s tone was griping, purposefully dismissive. 

____

Prompto linked their fingers together tightly. Ardyn let out a sigh: for no matter what happened, at least for now he could just enjoy this. Until, of course, the Gods and Kings of Old saw fit to rip him away once more. It was a rather depressing thought only aided by the knowledge that he had bedded two of the _Chosen One’s_ most trusted allies; and surely, should things go awry, he could use them to rip each other apart— there was something soothing to the notion, knowing he still had a hand full of cards to play. A low warmth gathered in his gut, a peacefulness as he looked at them. Even if he may destroy them yet, perhaps his boys had been of some consequence to the way events unfolded after all.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I've appreciated all your views/kudos/comments. 
> 
> And again, if there's anything you want me to know now that we've reached the end of our journey, now is your chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Ignis is intoxicated when he sleeps with Ardyn. Prompto is pressured/coerced into having sex with Ardyn.


End file.
